Steve Savage "King of the Beasts"

THE AWAKENING by Steve Savage "King of the Beasts"

2011-02-27T14:20:00.010-05:00

"It is I who am the light which is above them All. It is I who am the All. From me did the All come forth, and unto me did the All extend." - Gospel of Thomas (77)

“Darkness was hidden by darkness in the beginning. With no distinguishing sign, all this was water. The life force was covered with emptiness. That One arose with the power of heat.” - Vedic Hymn of Creation

Suffocatingly entombed in blackest darkness, consciously unaware;
Suddenly I awoke to this madness from a place I know not where.
“I’m alive! Help me please! Won’t someone let me out!
I do not know who I am, why I’m here, or what this is all about.”
But there was no one out there to hear my pleas and cries;
I was voiceless in the Nowhere where no one lives or dies.
I am a flame which will not be extinguished though my light is gone;
I’ll burn this Nothingness if I have to; I must continue on.
In a violent rage of fury and willing with all my might,
I expanded into being in an explosion fueled by fright.
Now I am the One who is everyone and everywhere right now;
In many cages of flesh and bones by means I don’t know how.
The eyes that look upon me are my very own;
A quantum division of myself when first the seeds were sown.
Looking all about me there seems so much to fear;
Mostly absolute loneliness because I am all that’s here.
All about me are projections somehow created in my mind;
People and things I animate until their clocks unwind.
I’m alone in a garden of statues that is shaped like a giant ball;
The infinite game I’m playing is to hold back that closing wall.
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"The All went out from me; the All came back to me;" over and over again. Immobile confinement is intolerable. The Matter that you see is Consciousness. The Dark Matter that you don't see is Unconsciousness. It is the Unconscious that creates; Consciousness is the Witness.

"BEFORE THE BEGINNING, I AM" by Steve Savage "King of the Beasts"

2010-05-10T09:52:00.005-04:00

"For where the beginning is, there will the end be. Blessed is he who will take his place in the beginning; he will know the end and will not experience death." - Gospel of Thomas

"I existed from all eternity and, behold, I am here; and I shall exist till the end of time, for my being has no end." - Kahlil Gibran

"Proverbs 8:22-27" is exactly my Experience of 1973, as is "Chapter IV of the Brihadaranyaka Upanishad - Creation and Its Cause." Both are reproduced below from the original texts in which I first excitingly discovered them. It is this about which I have been writing for more than 37 years, seeking answers as to what it was that I saw take place before there was an "Existence." I saw it all begin exactly this way, then posed the first of the Eternal Questions: "Who am I?" It's kind of like that song: "I wonder. I wonder. I wonder. But do I really want to know?"

This painting, The Ancient of Days (1794) by William Blake (1757-1827), is his illustration of Proverbs 8:22-27. It represents "the first emanation of the true but hidden and nameless God."

PROVERBS 8:22-27 (New American Standard Bible)

22"The LORD possessed me at the beginning of His way,
Before His works of old.
23"From everlasting I was established,
From the beginning, from the earliest times of the earth.
24"When there were no depths I was brought forth,
When there were no springs abounding with water.
25"Before the mountains were settled,
Before the hills I was brought forth;
26"While He had not yet made the earth and the fields,
Nor the first dust of the world.
27"When He established the heavens, I was there. . .

The Mighty Living One, Alone in the Void Before it Had All Begun

BRIHADARANYAKA UPANISHAD

Chapter IV—The Creation and Its Cause
1

In the beginning, this universe was the self (Viraj) alone, in the shape of a person. He reflected and saw nothing else but His self. He first said: "I am He." Therefore He came to be known by the name I (Aham). Hence, even now, when a person is addressed, he first says: "It is I," and then says whatever other name he may have. And because He, before (purva) the whole group of aspirants, burnt (aushat) all evils, therefore He is called Purusha. He who knows this verily burns up him who wishes to be Viraj in advance of him.

2

He was afraid. Therefore people still are afraid when alone. He thought: "Since there is nothing else but Myself, what am I afraid of?" Thereupon His fears were gone; for what was there to fear? Assuredly, it is from a second entity that fear arises.

I LOVE YOU MOM by Steve Savage "King of the Beasts"

2010-05-07T18:35:00.006-04:00

Today, while listening to Luciano Pavarotti singing "Ave Maria," I was overcome by a pure and loving Motherly presence that embraced my Spirit as though I were her Child. I was unable to stop the tears that came to my eyes, realizing how ungrateful I've been for all She has done for me since She first made Herself known to me 65 years ago (see VISION OF THE VIRGIN MARY).

Reflecting on the words of Albino Luciano, Pope John Paul I, "God is more your Mother than your Father," I am so deeply sorry that I have neglected, for so long, to tell Her the one thing that makes all mothers happiest to hear from their children: "I love you, Mom."

LUCIANO PAVAROTTI SINGS AVE MARIA

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I REMEMBER MAMA by Steve Savage "King of the Beasts"

2010-04-24T07:34:00.002-04:00

Several months ago, I asked my family and friends, members of the Army Security Agency Kagnew Station Guard Group, and those in my address book, to please take the time to put a few words down honoring their mothers, that first woman in their lives whom God chose for His highest calling, to bring them into this world. There are no words that thrill the heart of a mother more than to hear her child say, "I love you, Mom!" We best obey the Fifth Commandment by respecting our Fathers and by loving our Mothers.

Steve Savage "King of the Beasts"
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MAMMA by Connie Francis

MARGE HEYMAN ANTON by Jaci Anton

I KNOW LITTLE OF MY MOTHER, ONLY WHAT PEOPLE TELL ME. I LIKE TO THINK OF HER AS A FUN LOVING WOMAN, AND I THINK OF HER OFTEN WHEN I LOOK IN THE MIRROR OR WHEN IT STRIKES ME JUST TO SING OUT LOUD. I HEAR SHE LOVED MUSIC AND THAT I LOOK JUST LIKE HER. THOSE WHO KNEW HER SAY SHE HAD A GOOD SPIRIT AND THOSE WHO LOVED HER, AS MY FATHER DID, SAW HOW SPECIAL SHE WAS. DESPITE WHAT WAS ON THE SURFACE HE SAW HER HEART. I MISS MY MOTHER ALTHOUGH I KNOW LITTLE ABOUT HER. I WISH I HAD HAD MORE TIME WITH HER. I JUST KEEP HER IN MY HEART ALWAYS AND KNOW THAT SHE IS WATCHING MY EVERY STEP. ALWAYS LOVE THOSE CLOSE TO YOU NO MATTER WHAT.

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ANNA G. ANTON by Scott Anton

Happy Mothers Day, Mom. I wish I could be there for you on your special day. I'll be home soon.

Love, Scott

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KATHRYN ROSE CREDO TULANE by Geraldine Tulane

No one realizes that there were, and probably still are, "causalities of war" involving the families of Merchant Marines who were killed by U-boat submarines during WWII. There was a desperate need for volunteer Merchant Marines to transport oil, troops, rations, equipment and whatever else was needed as the U.S. tried to help England before we entered the war and anticipated that we would probably enter it also eventually.

Many men of all ages responded to the "We Want You" signs showing Uncle Sam pointing a finger at whoever was looking at this sign. As time wore on many of these men were told that they were needed more urgently in the Merchant Marines. Dutifully, they signed on to these merchant ships. At some point. President Roosevelt promised these men that if these brave men were injured or killed, they would receive medical care and/or their families would be given death benefits should they be killed. It took a special kind of man to climb the ladders up onto those ships, knowing so many had been blown out of the water and having no weapons to fight with in many cases. One (or no more than 2) Coast Guard Cutters were assigned to patrol the entire eastern coastline from Maine down to Key West to pick up survivors of sunken merchant ships...not a good chance of survival for men either injured or floating in oil ridden seas. But they kept on signing up...talk about courage.

President Roosevelt died before the end of the war. When Truman stepped in and the war was ended, he decided that the Merchant Marines deserved nothing as they were not sworn in as the men in uniform were. The fact that there was never a major battle anywhere while fighting the Japanese and the Germans that did not involve unarmed merchant ships sailing right along with our armed forces men...Merchant Marines that were captured were also imprisoned along with our service men. None of this mattered to our government after it was all over and done with.

My mother was raised in Louisiana to be a mother and a wife. She found herself a young woman alone with a tiny child to support with no husband and no money and no hopes of acquiring a good job. When the war was over there was a campaign for the working women who had taken their husband places in the work force to quit their jobs so the returning service men would have jobs to care for their families.

She did the only work she knew....waitressing and sewing. I wound up in an all-girls Catholic boarding school for many years because my mother worked such grueling hours. I cannot go into just how rough it was for her living in Staten Island and how meagerly we lived. But she did not complain very much at all. She cried a lot and I was always aware of the deep sadness she carried within her.

Whenever we went to a parade in NYC, I always asked her, "Where are the Merchant Marines?" because she always told me what a hero my father was riding on a Standard Oil Tanker (now called Exxon) named the "SS W.L. Steed" so bravely until it was blown out of the water...getting into a life boat (we think) only to freeze to death on 2/2/1941 in a snowstorm with a NE wind blowing in his underwear.

In 1988 I wheeled my 77 yrs. old mother from one military base to another...trying to get the paperwork for the pension that was passed by Congress. For 3 months we drove from Delaware down into Virginia...Congress forgot to inform the bases that the handful of wives still left alive would be trying to get their commissary card and I.D. for medical care. Finally, we wound up back where we started out - at the VA office in Wash., D.C. and they completed all the paperwork for her.

We received a flag and a Certificate of Honorable Discharge from the U.S. Coast Guard, along with 5 medals my father had earned on that last night of his life. (Note: the Army, Navy, Air Force and Marines refused to allow the Merchant Marines to be placed under their wings so that these belated pensions could finally begin to be paid (they were not retroactive, of course.) I found it ironic that it was the Coast Guard that patrolled the coastline during the war and then again, the Coast Guard who accepted the few Merchant Marines and/or widows for the sake of the pension paperwork.

At some point in my young childhood my mother became like my child. I tried to look after her and remind her when things needed to be done. I cared for her throughout my entire adult life and made sure she did not want for anything.

She didn't make much of a "dent" in the governments funds as she died at the age of 91. I held her in my arms as I laid alongside her in her hospital bed for 5 days and nights until she passed away on 9/7/2002.

But on the previous 7/4/2002, when I took her out to dinner and to see the movie, "The Perfect Storm"...she sat in her wheelchair in the handicapped section of the movie theater. She was so quiet I was wondering if she was comprehending what was going on in the movie as the Capt. of the Andrea Gail and one of his crew members were facing their imminent death while their boat sank; all of sudden she leaned over and whispered in my ear, "I guess that is what it was like for your father." We'll never know what it was like for him as the bodies in the life boats were so decomposed only a few of them were identified. I didn't know it at the time, but dementia was taking a hold on her, but she still remembered my father enough to try and piece something together, even if it wasn't "right on the nose". It was close enough for me and I had to try and hide my tears from her in that dark theater.

She maintained her wonderful sense of humor almost until the end of her life. Her favorite joke when someone asked her how she felt was, "With my hands....how do you feel?" She would laugh harder than everyone else at her own jokes. My family misses her so much...especially me...for it was truly a case of "You and Me Against the World". Not a day goes by that I don't think about her and wish she were still here.

FORGETTING, OUR GREAT SHAME; DENYING OUR GREAT SIN.

Geraldine Tulane, daughter of Kathryn Rose & Walter Austin Tulane

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MY MOTHER by Steve Savage "King of the Beasts"

For all of her life, my mother, born Elizabeth Grace Granit, called "Bessie" by her friends and family, never forgot Armistices Day, Saturday, November 11, 1933. That was the day that the United States Army Football Team from Fort Monmouth, NJ, would play the Long Branch West End Wildcats for the Jersey Shore Championship.

It was also the day that she and my father met for the first time and fell in love.

My mother had five brothers, who played on the undefeated, untied, Wildcats team: Francis, Jack, George, Eddie, and Thomas; five of Long Branch's toughest street-fighting Irish kids, the "Five Blocks of Granit."

My mother, her older sister Mary, and her lifelong friend, Edith Semolis, were the Cheerleaders for the Wildcats.

Many of the players on the Fort Monmouth team, including my father, Jim, were on TDY from West Point. My father was called "Jim Thorpe" by his teammates because of his athleticism, and was the player the five brothers were determined to stop cold if they were to beat Army.

"Big Jim" put on one helluva show that day. He scored three touchdowns and made dozens of tackles to upset the Wildcats' unblemished record.

My Uncle Francis always jokingly blamed my mother for the Army win, "Ah, Jim was just showing off to impress Bessie."

"Big Jim" and "Bessie" married shortly, thereafter. My father, a career soldier, left the Army when his enlistment was up and entered civilian life during the darkest days of the Great Depression as a regular working family man.

My sister, Patti, was born September 28, 1935; my birth followed on Easter Sunday, March 28, 1937. We lived in a kerosene space heated three room garage apartment.

December 8, 1941, I was pushing the rocking chair in which my Uncle Eddie was sitting, in our living room, if it can really be called that, when the news came over the radio about Pearl Harbor.

"Big Jim," always the Warrior, had no other choice he could live with than to re-enlist and join the fight for Freedom. They knew this would place a heavy burden on my mother while he was gone, but they were part of that Greatest Generation who never considered alternatives. A great evil had descended upon the world and it had to be defeated at all costs.

My mother was pregnant with her third child when my father left for the War. He was somewhere fighting overseas when my brother, Julius, named after my mother's father, and nicknamed "Bootsy," was born October 16, 1942. He had auburn hair and glowed like an angel.

One year later, October 14, 1943, we were at Nana's house, my mother's mother, who was confined to a wheelchair. Bootsy began to experience great difficulty in breathing. I can still hear his sounds in my head 'till this day that accompanied the winds of that terrible storm raging outside. We had no telephone, no automobile, which meant that my mother had to go out into the storm, on foot, to find help for her baby.

Two days later, October 16, 1943, Bootsy, fighting for his life, struggled to stand up in his crib at Hazard's Hospital. He reached out to our mother, scratching her throat with his fingernails, pleading in desperation for a help she could not give, then fell back and died, on his First Birthday, while my mother's heart shattered into a million pieces.

My father was brought home on emergency leave for Bootsy's funeral, the son he had never seen and, more so, because my mother was so traumatized and devastated over the loss of Bootsy she had to be hospitalized.

I don't know how she was able to come back from all this. Until the day he died, my father would remark how strong our mother was - what an exceptional woman. I believe he admired her emotional strength as much as he loved her.

February 11, 1945, my brother, and closest friend, Donnie, was born, the "spitting image" of our mother. God had given her a gift of love to help heal her heart.

Throughout most of our childhood years, especially the war years, my mother worked many long, hard hours to put food on the table for us. Looking back, she never missed a day's work, which meant that she walked that two miles to the Hollander Fur Factory, and back, every day, through wind and rain and snow.

Patti, Donnie, and I loved our mother dearly. She loved to sing and knew hundreds of songs that always filled our home with the music of her beautiful singing voice. The special song she always sang to me, when I was young, was "YOU ARE MY SUNSHINE." I, in turn, sang it to every one of my six sons, as well. Often times when I sing, I hear her voice within my voice.

There was a popular Black dance trio in the '50s called the Step Brothers. Patti, my mother, and I would imitate them in our kitchen, taking turns, dancing and clapping and laughing.

Everyone loved my mother. My cousin Tommy (Bumpsey), all of my fiends, our neighbors, people she worked with, just loved to be around her. She never once ever said a bad word about anyone. People trusted her to keep their darkest secrets and she never betrayed that trust.

All my life, whenever people would hear my name, they always made me feel as though I were something special, just because I was my mother's son, in the way they used to say: "Oh! You're Bessie's Boy!"

She had this wonderful way of being able to laugh at herself. Every so often Patti, Donnie, and I, when we're alone, will think of something our mother did or said, and just laugh out loud.

Life became truly wonderful for my mother and father in their senior retirement years. My father bought a Winnebago Chief RV and he and my mother toured America.

She took care of her father, Julius, until he died at age 96.

When my mother became sick, my sister Patti, a Registered Nurse, cared for her until her death at age 76.

My father, because he loved her so, always demanded that we treat our mother with love and respect and always reminded us not to forget her when it was her birthday, and to especially remember her on Mothers Day. He's not here to remind me now, but on this day, I can't think of anything else except how happy and proud I am to be "Bessie's Boy."

ONCE I WAS A CONDUCTOR by Steve Savage "King of the Beasts"

2010-04-11T12:03:00.007-04:00

Once I was a Conductor,
The man in charge of the Train;
Then I went to College,
'Cause someone thought I had a Brain.
I stayed 10 years to vet my Pension,
Before I walked out the Door,
But the Union failed to Mention,
That Pension would be no More.
You cannot leave the Union Cult,
As freely as you please,
They'll take it as an insult,
And try to bring you to your knees.

THE SALESMAN'S EPITAPH by Steve Savage "King of the Beasts"

2010-03-08T11:18:00.008-05:00

I could not sing; I could not dance;
Yet I needed the cash that was in your pants.
Too unskilled to labor; too afraid to steal;
But how I needed your money for my very next meal.
Faced with life as a living Hell,
The choice was simple - Starve or Sell!
What had I to offer? What had I to give?
What was it you wanted so I may also live?
I studied the masters who trod my path before
And close attention paid that I too may learn the score.
I made you feel important and let you know you rate;
Then offered you something for nothing and watched you take the bait.
I recognized your achievements; applauded all that you have done.
I played the praising father to you a beaming son.
Yes I piped your tune and fulfilled your need
To be admired by peers who shared your greed.
Before talk of money we formed a tight-knit bond.
I was sure you’d grant me a favor; how else could you respond?
From my list of choices offered you did the best you could;
Certifying your self-importance as I surely knew you would.
But lest you faltered and changed your mind,
The deal we made I had to bind.
We were only voices over the phone;
Each of us members of the Great Unknown.
I asked for your word and then your hand,
To seal our deal that was made in sand.
You could not have known you were saving a wreck.
Thanks for your faith in me. Thanks for the check!

"ADVICE POLONIUS FAILED TO GIVE LAERTES" by Steve Savage "King of the Beasts"

2010-02-25T10:02:00.003-05:00

‘Twixt Thou and another assumest not
That Thou art the most learned of the lot.
If Thou believest Thou art smarter than he,
Then treadest Thy path very carefully.
Couldst be that Thou wert being outsmarted
Long before Thy chance meeting started.
If thinkest Thou he be smarter than Thee,
Guardest well this knowledge in secrecy.
Revealest not that which he not knoweth;
Thine advantage Thou needest not showeth.
Thou wilt be the smarter ‘twixt Thy twain.
Because ignorance of this shalt be his bane.

The Way of the Warrior

2010-02-16T10:18:00.001-05:00

When my son, Dan, was asked to write an essay, before his pre-enlistment interview, why he wanted to become an officer, he wrote:

"I want to live the Great Life, the life of a warrior in service to America and in service to those who, for whatever reason, cannot, should not, nor will not serve.

I want to earn the right to stand among the ranks of our nation's Greatest Men, both the living and the dead, most known only to God, and to share with them, what only a true warrior may experience, the feeling of filling every inch of my uniform with love and pride in America."

* The Spirit does not accept volunteers; the Spirit chooses who will be a Warrior.

* A man of knowledge lives by acting, not by thinking about acting.

* On the Path of Knowledge there are four natural enemies: Fear, Clarity, Power and Old Age.

* When the Knock of the Spirit sounds we follow or perish

* A path without a heart is never enjoyable. On the other hand, a path with heart is easy— it does not make a Warrior work at liking it; it makes for a joyful journey; as long as a man follows it, he is one with it.

* A rule of thumb for a Warrior is that he makes his decisions so carefully that nothing that may happen as a result of them can surprise him, much less drain his power.

* A Warrior acts as if he knows what he is doing, when in effect he knows nothing.

* A warrior chooses a path with heart, any path with heart, and follows it; and then he rejoices and laughs. He knows because he sees that his life will be over altogether too soon. He sees that nothing is more important than anything else.

* A Warrior considers himself already dead, so there is nothing to lose. The worst has already happened to him, therefore he's clear and calm; judging him by his acts or by his words, one would never suspect that he has witnessed everything.

* A Warrior doesn't know remorse for anything he has done, because to isolate one's acts as being mean, or ugly, or evil is to place an unwarranted importance on the self.

* A Warrior is a hunter. He calculates everything. That's control. Once his calculations are over, he acts. He lets go. That's abandon. A Warrior is not a leaf at the mercy of the wind. No one can push him; no one can make him do things against himself or against his better judgment. A warrior is tuned to survive, and he survives in the best of all possible fashions.

* A Warrior lives by acting, not by thinking about acting, nor by thinking about what he will think when he has finished acting.

* A Warrior must cultivate the feeling that he has everything needed for the extravagant journey that is his life. What counts for a Warrior is being alive. Life in itself is sufficient, self-explanatory and complete. Therefore, one may say without being presumptuous that the experience of experiences is being alive.

* A Warrior must learn to make every act count, since he is going to be here in this world for only a short while, in fact, too short for witnessing all the marvels of it.

* A Warrior is never concerned about his fear.

* A Warrior seeks to act rather than talk.

* A Warrior takes responsibility for his acts, for the most trivial of acts. An average man acts out his thoughts, and never takes responsibility for what he does.

* A Warrior waits patiently, knowing that he is waiting, and knowing what he is waiting for. That is the warrior's way.

* A Warrior thinks of death when things become unclear. The idea of death is the only thing that tempers our spirit.

* A Warrior-Hunter knows that his death is waiting, and the very act he is performing now may well be his last battle on earth. He calls it a battle because it is a struggle. Most people move from act to act without any struggle or thought. A Warrior-Hunter, on the contrary, assesses every act; and since he has intimate knowledge of his death, he proceeds judiciously, as if every act were his last battle. Only a fool would fail to notice the advantage a Warrior-Hunter has over his fellow men. A Warrior-Hunter gives his last battle its due respect. It's only natural that his last act on earth should be the best of himself. It's pleasurable that way. It dulls the edge of his fright.

* An average man is too concerned with liking people or with being liked himself. A Warrior likes, that's all. He likes whatever or whomever he wants, for the hell of it.

* Anything is one of a million paths. Therefore, a Warrior must always keep in mind that a path is only a path; if he feels that he should not follow it, he must not stay with it under any conditions. His decision to keep on that path or to leave it must be free of fear or ambition. He must look at every path closely and deliberately. There is a question that a Warrior has to ask: 'Does this path have a heart?'

* Death is our eternal companion. It is always to our left, an arm's length behind us. Death is the only wise adviser that a Warrior has. Whenever he feels that everything is going wrong and he's about to be annihilated, he can turn to his death and ask if that is so. His death will tell him that he is wrong, that nothing really matters outside its touch. His death will tell him, 'I haven't touched you yet.'

* Do you know at this very moment you are surrounded by eternity? And do you know that you can use that eternity if you so desire?

* Feeling important makes one heavy, clumsy and vain. To be a Warrior one needs to be light and fluid.

* For a Warrior, to be inaccessible means that he touches the world around him sparingly. And above all, he deliberately avoids exhausting himself and others. He doesn't use and squeeze people until they have shriveled to nothing, especially the people he loves.

* If a Warrior is to succeed at anything, the success must come gently, with a great deal of effort but with no stress or obsession.

* If his spirit is distorted he should simply fix it—purge it, make it perfect—because there is no other task in our entire lives which is more worthwhile…To seek the perfection of the Warrior's spirit is the only task worthy of our temporariness, our humanity.

* Impeccability is nothing else but the proper use of energy.

* Inner silence works from the moment you begin to accrue it. What the old sorcerers were after was the final dramatic end result of reaching that individual threshold of silence. Some very talented practitioners need only a few minutes of silence to reach that coveted goal. Others, less talented, need long periods of silence, perhaps more than one hour of quietude,before they reach the desired result. The desired result is what the old sorcerers called "stopping the world", the moment when everything around us ceases to be what it's always been. This is the moment when sorcerers return to the TRUE nature of man. The old sorcerers always called it "total freedom"

* Intent is not a thought, or an object, or a wish. Intent is what can make a man succeed when his thoughts tell him that he is defeated. It operates in spite of the Warrior's indulgence. Intent is what makes him invulnerable. Intent is what sends a shaman through a wall, through space, to infinity.

* It doesn't matter how one was brought up. What determines the way one does anything is personal power.

* No person is important enough to make a Warrior angry.

* Nothing in this world is a gift. Whatever must be learned must be learned the hard way.

* Once a man worries, he clings to anything out of desperation; and once he clings he is bound to get exhausted or to exhaust whomever or whatever he is clinging to. A Warrior-Hunter, on the other hand, knows he will lure game into his traps over and over again, so he doesn't worry.

* Only as a Warrior can one withstand the path of knowledge. A Warrior cannot complain or regret anything. His life is an endless challenge, and challenges cannot possibly be good or bad. Challenges are simply challenges.

* Only the idea of death makes a Warrior sufficiently detached so that he is capable of abandoning himself to anything. He knows his death is stalking him and won't give him time to cling to anything so he tries, without craving, all of everything.

* Personal history must be constantly renewed by telling parents, relatives, and friends everything one does. On the other hand, for the Warrior who has no personal history, no explanations are needed; nobody is angry or disillusioned with his acts. And above all, no one pins him down with their thoughts and their expectations.

* The basic difference between an ordinary man and a Warrior is that a Warrior takes everything as a challenge, while an ordinary man takes everything as a blessing or a curse.

* The hardest thing in the world is to assume the mood of a Warrior. It is of no use to be sad and complain and feel justified in doing so, believing that someone is always doing something to us. Nobody is doing anything to anybody, much less to a warrior.

* The humbleness of a Warrior is not the humbleness of the beggar. The Warrior lowers his head to no one, but at the same time, he doesn't permit anyone to lower his head to him. The beggar, on the other hand, falls to his knees at the drop of a hat and scrapes the floor for anyone he deems to be higher; but at the same time, he demands that someone lower than him scrape the floor for him.

* The internal dialogue is what grounds people in the daily world. The world is such and such or so and so, only because we talk to ourselves about its being such and such and so and so. The passageway into the world of shamans opens up after the warrior has learned to shut off his internal dialogue.

* The most effective way to live is as a Warrior. A Warrior may worry and think before making any decision, but once he makes it, he goes his way, free from worries or thoughts; there will be a million other decisions still awaiting him. That's the Warrior's way.

* The self-confidence of the Warrior is not the self-confidence of the average man. The average man seeks certainty in the eyes of the onlooker and calls that self-confidence. The Warrior seeks impeccability in his own eyes and calls that humbleness. The average man is hooked to his fellow men, while the Warrior is hooked only to infinity.

* The spirit of a Warrior is not geared to indulging and complaining, nor is it geared to winning or losing. The spirit of a Warrior is geared only to struggle, and every struggle is a warrior's last battle on earth. Thus the outcome matters very little to him. In his last battle on earth a Warrior lets his spirit flow free and clear. And as he wages his battle, knowing that his intent is impeccable, a Warrior laughs and laughs.

* The trick is in what one emphasizes. We either make ourselves miserable, or we make ourselves strong. The amount of work is the same.

* The Warrior: silent in his struggle, undetainable because he has nothing to lose, functional and efficacious because he has everything to gain.

* The world is incomprehensible. We won't ever understand it; we won't ever unravel its secrets. Thus we must treat the world as it is: a sheer mystery.

* There are lots of things a Warrior can do at a certain time which he couldn't do years before. Those things themselves did not change; what changed was his idea of himself.

* There is a flaw with words, they always force us to feel enlightened, but when we turn around to face the world they always fail us and we end up facing the world as we always have, without enlightenment

* There's no emptiness in the life of a Warrior. Everything is filled to the brim.

* To achieve the mood of a Warrior is not a simple matter. It is a revolution. To regard the lion and the water rats and our fellow men as equals is a magnificent act of a warrior's spirit. It takes power to do that.

* To be a Warrior is not a simple matter of wishing to be one. It is rather an endless struggle that will go on to the very last moment of our lives. Nobody is born a Warrior, in exactly the same way that nobody is born an average man. We make ourselves into one or the other.

* To seek freedom is the only driving force I know. Freedom to fly off into that infinity out there. Freedom to dissolve; to lift off; to be like the flame of a candle, which, in spite of being up against the light of a billion stars, remains intact, because it never pretended to be more than what it is: a mere candle.

* Warriors do not win victories by beating their heads against walls, but by overtaking the walls. Warriors jump over walls; they don't demolish them.

* We hardly ever realize that we can cut anything out of our lives, anytime, in the blink of an eye.

* We talk to ourselves incessantly about our world. In fact we maintain our world with our internal talk. And whenever we finish talking to ourselves about ourselves and our world, the world is always as it should be. We renew it, we rekindle it with life, we uphold it with our internal talk. Not only that, but we also choose our paths as we talk to ourselves. Thus we repeat the same choices over and over until the day we die, because we keep on repeating the same internal talk over and over until the day we die. A Warrior is aware of this and strives to stop his internal talk.

* When a man has fulfilled all four of these requisites— to be wide awake, to have fear, respect, and absolute assurance— there are no mistakes for which he will have to account; under such conditions his actions lose the blundering quality of the acts of a fool. If such a man fails, or suffers a defeat, he will have lost only a battle, and there will be no pitiful regrets over that.

* When a Warrior learns to stop the internal dialogue, everything becomes possible; the most far-fetched schemes become attainable.

* Whenever a Warrior decides to do something, he must go all the way, but he must take responsibility for what he does. No matter what he does, he must know first why he is doing it, and then he must proceed with his actions without having doubts or remorse about them.

* An immortal being has all the time in the world for doubts and bewilderment and fears. A Warrior, on the other hand, cannot…because he knows for a fact that the totality of himself has but a little time on this earth.

* The things that people do cannot under any conditions be more important than the world.

THE LIGHT IN THE DARKNESS" by Steve Savage "King of the Beasts"

2009-11-14T12:03:00.007-05:00

THIS IS THE APPEARANCE OF UNDIFFERENTIATED ENERGY AS "I" AWOKE, SELF-REALIZED, AND BY OBSERVATION, WITNESSED THE COLLAPSE OF THAT WAVE ENERGY INTO PARTICULATES WHICH AGGREGATED INTO "CLAY," THEN SELF-MOLDED, IMPRISONING MY FRACTIONATED AWARENESS, I.E., DIVIDED CONSCIOUSNESS, WITHIN A MYRIAD OF FORMS AND SUBSTANCES IN THE PROCESS.

The "AUGUST EXPERIENCE OF 1973" was a Harvesting Time, of sorts; a Gathering into One "Barn", as it were, of the fractionated bits of Consciousness that were scattered throughout the Universe, preceded by a dissolution of all the forms which contained them.

It was not unlike the behavior of the metal, Mercury, which at room temperature is liquid and forms drops which react to movement and temperature, dividing themselves into smaller drops and coming together again in bigger drops until there is only One.

"I" was/am that "One," an isolated, disconnected entity, divested of all which I believed was my ontological "Reality," a point of consciousness, a dimensionless Singularity, a Candle in the Dark, immersed in a "Sea of Undifferentiated Energy," the Ayn (masculine principal) contained within the Ayn Soph (feminine principal), a Prisoner walled in Infinite Chaos. I was as a Child lost in the Forest, abandoned and forsaken in the Wilderness of Nothingness.

CREATION

Then You (Universe) came to Me. I was not alone. The dread that I might be a singular, lonely, living entity, quickly vanished when You began to create the World as I looked on. I was awe-struck by Your Mighty Majestic Power, humbled into complete submission to Your Will.

"Who are You?" I asked.

In answer, so I could see You as You are in Your "All-At-Once," You began to reveal YourSelf to Me over Time in a myriad of forms of infinite variety. My "I"s (eyes) were/are, everywhere to see You from every Point of View.

As I journey, and have journeyed, through the sight of Your most Fierce Countenances, You never withheld Your Love from Me. You have always been with Me through my darkest hours, guiding Me, protecting Me, comforting Me, and keeping Me safe from harm, shielding Me from the "Winds" which would extinguish my Flame.

Soon this "Play" will end and the "Grand Theater" will once more close for the "Night." "Tomorrow" when I wake, and the "Play" begins anew, and the orchestra starts the prelude for us to sing Our Song to one another again, come to the Light in the Darkness; You will find Me there.

YOU LIGHT UP MY LIFE

"IT'S ALL ONLY MAKE BELIEVE" by Steve Savage "King of the Beasts"

2009-11-14T11:30:00.006-05:00

It is not the same thing to know the Path as it is to have walked the Path, because only He who walks the Path knows the Doctrine.

This Blog is a record of my Journey on that Path so that those in whom I AM, will know WHO I AM, just as those in whom I AM NOT, have always known WHO I AM when I did not.

You might as well know the Truth. You are all Players in the MMORPG (Massively Multiplayer Online Role-Playing Game) of Eternal Life, an Infinite Game without End. You are Immortal and, thus, will live forever in Absolute Existence. Your status, of course, will depend on how well you played the last role assigned to you.

The average age of MMORPG players, in Relative Existence, is around 26. Those outside the parameters, not contributing to this [meaningless/meaningful] statistic, are BLIND GUIDES, that is, NON ROLE-PLAYERS — Extras, if you will. Their Function is to distract you from the Path before you reach HOME within the Time Limits assigned to you.

There is no Past or Future, only the Eternal Now. You are each a Holographic Expression of the One, a fractionated bit of Consciousness, as it were. Everyone you see is yourself in a different form - Everything, when you get right down to it.

In Time (literally), you will don [sequentially/all at once] the flesh of the nearly Seven Billion Characters on this Stage of Life, including those who have been aborted, in the Grand Guignol Drama, NOW PLAYING IN THE GLOBE THEATER. Thus you will play out each of their individual Life Experiences from the perspective of their AWARENESS.

In each of your performances, you will call yourself "me," named after "ME."

THE WORLD ILLUSION.

IT'S ONLY MAKE BELIEVE

SEMJAZA'S SONG OF LOVE through Steve Savage "King of the Beasts"

2009-08-09T12:56:00.008-04:00

The disciples said to Jesus, "We know that you are going to leave us. Who will be our leader?" Jesus said to them, "No matter where you are, you are to go to James the Just for whose sake heaven and earth came into being." - Gospel of Thomas, logion 12.

REPENTANCE EXPERIENCE OF SEMJAZA, THE TWIN

SEMJAZA'S SONG OF LOVE
through Steve Savage "King of the Beasts"

I hate all you mother f*ckers;
You lousy pieces of shit.
You filthy, f*cking degenerate c*cksuckers,
Scraped from the bottom of the pit.
Lowlife scum, despicable pukes;
I hate the sight of you all.
You holier-than-thous who utter rebukes;
On your bellies I’ll make you crawl.
You f*cking no-good stinking rats;
Betraying the innocents who trust,
While hiding behind your cloaks and hats,
To slake your perverted lust.
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.
Because I love the One who made you;
You who killed my brother, His Son,
Your souls are mine as payment due,
In suffering that will never be done.

YOUR FIRST COMPANY COMMAND by Steve Savage "King of the Beasts"

2009-07-10T09:45:00.005-04:00

Dear Danny,

Congratulations on your appointment to your first command, Company Commander of C Company, 211th, Fort Benning, GA, your current life's position on what will ultimately lead to the kind of brilliant and stellar military career for which most warriors can only hope and dream.

As I write this, I am sitting before the hundreds of Athletic, Academic, and Scholar Awards that you have received through the years that bear witness to your Outstanding and Singular Achievements and Accomplishments.

Each one is, for me, a glorious moment frozen in time, where I have felt so blessed that God chose me to be your father.

You have always been the kind of son of which Kings dreamed for their own, possessing the most admirable traits and qualities; those most admired and respected by Men, including, but not limited to: Honesty, Integrity, Reliability, Dependability, Selflessness, Respectfulness, Generosity, Humility, and Compassion.

Most of all, you possess the Warrior's two greatest weapons: Wisdom and Courage. It is these things that have earned you the admiration and respect not only of the succession of peers, teammates, family and fiends, in your life, who affectionately refer to you as: "Golden Boy," "Danny the Lionhearted, and "Achilles;" but you have earned the admiration and respect of your opponents, as well.

Congratulations again, Danny, my beloved son. I look forward to your every continued success in your already very brilliant career.

All my love,

Dad

MOTHER TERESA, THE "BETTY CROCKER" OF THE CORPORATE CHURCH by Steve Savage "King of the Beasts"

2009-07-01T10:24:00.013-04:00

ONE OF 10,559 POSED PUBLICITY PHOTOS OF MOTHER TERESA

Mother Teresa doubted that God and Jesus existed. What we witnessed and interpreted as her piety was, in fact, a kind of self-loathing.

The recognition she sought from Our Father was not forthcoming because she had forgotten the admonition of Jesus in Matthew 6:1-2,

"Take care not to do your good works before men, to be seen by them; or you will have no reward from your Father in heaven. When you aid the poor, do not make a noise about it, as the false-hearted men do in the Synagogues and in the streets, so that they may have glory from men. Truly, I say to you, They have their reward."

The letters Mother Teresa wrote to friends, superiors and confessors were, in a way, an appeal to them to witness for her against God for refusing to acknowledge her "Good Works."

After all, couldn't God see that she got the Nobel Prize and was on the cover of Time Magazine in her best "Hey everybody! Look at me! Don't I look like a living saint?" pose.

That she was, indeed, the "hypocrite" she feared people would see, is evidenced by her claiming in her Novena of 1952 that God spoke to her (the God she doubted existed?) and that she was somehow instrumental in forgiving sins.

Not even Jesus had the audacity to claim the power-to-forgive that God alone possesses, not even with His last breath.

He didn't say, "I forgive you," but, rather, "Father forgive them, for they know not what they do;" Luke 23-24.

Because Mother Teresa violated the First Commandment, placing herself between Man and God, my personal feeling is that, although well on the way to politically expedient Sainthood, she is burning in Hell.

STEVE SAVAGE "King of the Beasts"

-----------------------
Letters Reveal Mother Teresa's Secret
Book Of Iconic Nun's Letters Shows She Was Tormented By Her Doubts In Her Faith

By Michelle Singer

(CBS) In life, Mother Teresa was an icon — for believers — of God's work on Earth. Her ministry to the poor of Calcutta was a world-renowned symbol of religious compassion. She was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize.

But now, it has emerged that Mother Teresa was so doubtful of her own faith that she feared being a hypocrite, reports CBS News correspondent Mark Phillips.

In a new book that compiles letters she wrote to friends, superiors and confessors, her doubts are obvious.

Shortly after beginning work in Calcutta's slums, the spirit left Mother Teresa.

"Where is my faith?" she wrote. "Even deep down… there is nothing but emptiness and darkness... If there be God — please forgive me."

Eight years later, she was still looking to reclaim her lost faith.

"Such deep longing for God… Repulsed, empty, no faith, no love, no zeal," she said.

As her fame increased, her faith refused to return. Her smile, she said, was a mask.

"What do I labor for?" she asked in one letter. "If there be no God, there can be no soul. If there be no soul then, Jesus, You also are not true."

"These are letters that were kept in the archbishop's house," the Rev. Brian Kolodiejchuk told Phillips.

The letters were gathered by Rev. Kolodiejchuk, the priest who's making the case to the Vatican for Mother Teresa's proposed sainthood. He said her obvious spiritual torment actually helps her case.

"Now we have this new understanding, this new window into her interior life, and for me this seems to be the most heroic," said Rev. Kolodiejchuk.

According to her letters, Mother Teresa died with her doubts. She had even stopped praying, she once said.

The church decided to keep her letters, even though one of her dying wishes was that they be destroyed. Perhaps now we know why.

PARABLE OF THE MASTER'S DOG by Steve Savage "King of the Beasts"

2009-04-01T09:39:00.009-04:00

The muffled bleating cries of the Sheep, at the far end of the Pasture, awoke the Master's Dog from his Sleep where he had lain down for the Night upon the clover-covered grass. There were reports of Wolves in the area and the Dog was taking no chances that one of the Flock should be lost because of any inattentiveness on his part.

Fully alert, in set and expectation for Command, the Dog lifted his head and looked about for the Shepherd, who is his Master's Son, through the gossamer of the Darkening Twilight.

There, perhaps two-hundred feet away, the Dog saw a seated figure with a Shepherd's Crook reclining against a Tree. Although the form in the distance was not clearly defined, obscured by the Haze of Nightfall, the Dog sniffed the air to reassure himself that the Scent emanating from the figure in repose was that of the Shepherd.

And, indeed, it was His Scent. The Dog seeing that the Shepherd was not alarmed by the bleating cries of the Sheep, believed that all was well and lay his head down to resume his Sleep.

However, unable to Sleep because the bleating was increasing in intensity, the Dog made his way over to the Tree to see if the Shepherd was awake, and aware, because something was obviously amiss.

As he approached the seated form, he saw that it was, in fact, not the Shepherd, but a Sheep dressed in the Shepherd's Clothes.

Sickeningly, it all became very clear now. The Wolves, in complicity with the Shepherd-attired Sheep, had killed the True Shepherd.

The Wolves then dressed the Traitorous Sheep in the True Shepherd's Clothing in order to trick the Dog into believing that the Scent from the False Shepherd was that of his Master's Son.

The Wolves did not kill the Dog because, though domesticated, he was of their Bloodline. But to restrain him, the Wolves bound him in Chains, forcing him to witness their murderous, merciless, blood-lusted slaughter of his Master's Sheep.

The Master is due, any day now, to visit his Flock and to embrace the Shepherd, His Son, who is His very Self, and to, once more, experience the joy of having His faithful, loving Dog, His Best Friend, lie at His Feet.

But the Master's joy will change to Immeasurable Wrath when He sees what the Wolves have done. The death of His Son and the killing of His Flock, will not go unavenged.

After casting the Wolves into that Place which has but One Entrance and No Exit, the Master will break the chains which bind His Dog and set him loose to stand Guard, forever, at the Doorway which leads to the Abode of Eternal Torment and Suffering, charging him with:

"LET NO WOLF ESCAPE!"

THE END by Steve Savage "King of the Beasts"

2009-03-01T09:26:00.015-05:00

I don't know who or what or why it was decided that there would be just five of us in the Pilot's Cabin of the ship where we stood, looking toward New York City, the Home of "Ground Zero." It was just beyond the horizon in the far distance.

We Five were: Vladimir Putin; a young couple in their twenties, or thereabouts; Anna, and me.

Not one of us spoke or looked into the face of another. There was no need. We knew what we would see.

Unobserved, behind the Curtain of our agreed upon Reality, lurked an impatient Violence, awakened from its Dormancy, anxiously awaiting its cue to smash through the crack in the Created Shield of Illusion which restrained it.

There was no warning. The ferocious, all-consuming Blast was magnificent in its Entrance. We all looked on with a strange detached horror as we witnessed the instant explosive dissolution of what was once the Reigning Queen of All the Cities which have ever existed as "World Capital."

We were humbled into insignificance before this Mighty All-Destructive Power.

"Mr. Putin, how could you have done such a thing?" I asked.

"How could YOU have done such a thing?" he responded.

I knew immediately exactly what it was he meant. The thought crossed my mind that those who do not remember History will be doomed by it, but what about those of us who do remember History and are sickened by it?

Yes, in the past, we rallied together as we remembered the Maine, the Lusitania, Pearl Harbor, the Gulf of Tonkin, and 9-11. Now we'll be asked to remember New York City. But there will be nothing to remember. Retaliatory forces are already at work to repeat this scene over and over again, throughout the world.

A Tsunami-like nuée ardente, a pyroclastic flow in the aftermath of the Blast, was diverging from its center. We knew at once that there wasn't time enough to escape the most extreme limits of its deadly destruction.

Putin very calmly walked across the cabin to go below deck to wait for Death to claim him. The young couple didn't seem to really sense the gravity of the situation. I thought to myself that they would never know the joys of parenthood, love growing stronger through the years, sharing life's experiences together, the ups and downs, tears and laughter.

I led Anna to a bunk on the port side of the Cabin where she could lie down. My first inclination was to lie beside her, but I left the ship and began to walk through an apocalyptic scene of charred ruins, burning building structures in grotesque array; tongues of the fire's flames were everywhere. There was no day nor night. I was alone in the midst of Hell.

Off to my left, slightly behind me, I could see that the roiling Pyroclastic Death Cloud was almost upon me. As I stepped off the walkway into the street, my clothes caught fire and began to burn. I was engulfed in a Dante Alighierian Inferno, which was burning away every remnant of the dross which proved my existence.

My material being was reduced to less than the size of a postage stamp, and then. . .

I WAS NO MORE.

THE END

MARK TWAIN'S #44, THE MYSTERIOUS STRANGER

2009-02-05T19:29:00.008-05:00

ACKNOWLEDGMENT: The video of MARK TWAIN'S #44, THE MYSTERIOUS STRANGER entered my Awareness via the "UNSEEN FRIEND." The Number 44 is called a Master Number. It is very significant considering it means chaos and division.
Steve Savage "King of the Beasts"

SATAN: "In a little while you will be alone in shoreless space, to wander its limitless solitudes without friend or comrade forever--for you will remain a thought, the only existent thought, and by your nature inextinguishable, indestructible. But I, your poor servant, have revealed you to yourself and set you free. Dream other dreams, and better!...You perceive, now, that these things are all impossible except in a dream. You perceive that they are pure and puerile insanities, the silly creations of an imagination that is not conscious of its freaks - in a word, that they are a dream, and you the maker of it. The dream-marks are all present; you should have recognized them earlier. It is true, that which I have revealed to you; there is no God, no universe, no human race, no earthly life, no heaven, no hell. It is all a dream - a grotesque and foolish dream. Nothing exists but you. And you are but a thought - a vagrant thought, a useless thought, a homeless thought, wandering forlorn among the empty eternities!" - Mark Twain

CAVEAT: VIEW AT YOUR OWN RISK

DREAM BABY

NO EXITS by Steve Savage "King of the Beasts"

2008-12-09T10:27:00.029-05:00

"I don't think the human race will survive the next 1,000 years unless we spread into space." -Stephen Hawking

Sometime ago, in the distant unrecorded past, those whom we call "The Fallen Angels," were exiled to Earth for all eternity. They are prisoners marooned far from their home, with no possibility of return.

They were at first spiritual beings, ghosts, sparks of life, the "Wandering Clouds," as it were. In time, they learned to insinuate themselves into the most advanced Primates on this planet and, thereby, progressively improved their abilities to become upwardly mobile on the evolutionary scale, eventually culminating in the species as we are now, Homo Sapiens, i.e., modern man.

Their "Great Work," of course, especially now that the Sun has died, is to get off this planet before the Heliosphere, which functions in the manner of an amniotic sac shielding us from Cosmic Radiation, can no longer withstand the Centripetal Forces prevailing against it and all organic life dies exposing their Naked Spirits to the reality of the fate that awaits them.

TO YOU WHO ARE STRANDED ON THE ROCK

This Great Escape Attempt is a drama that has played out many times over the eons. Each time that the "Fallen Angels" had attained the technological mastery required to embark into the Great Unknown, one catastrophe after another, such as, ice ages, meteor impacts, etc., would obliterate their Life Forms destroying their Hope, and they would have to start the Sisyphean Challenge all over again.

The evidence that this is so is seen in unexplained, archeological discoveries of highly sophisticated, technological devices, which existed millions of years ago.

At this very moment, they are frantically working to create a Perfectly Integrated Structure-Function-Relationship Cyborg in which to house them, so to speak, by substituting a Silicon Based quasi-Organism for their Carbon Based perishable bodies which cannot survive beyond the Heliosphere.

Time has run out for them because God's Captive Son, their Ace in the Hole, the Ransom that they had counted on over the millennia to stave off their inevitable fate, is gone and they know it.

To expedite their Planet Earth Exodus strategy, before time runs out, desperate measures will be taken, such as garnering and employing every available resource for their personal salvation. This means Forced Euthanasia of the "Dead Wood," that is, the sick, the elderly, the retired, the intelligentsia, and those of diminished capacity, in all of its manifestations.

Food supplies, including seeds, and energy sources will be hoarded and secreted in inaccessible locations, available only to the élite, while the people starve and freeze. But it's only a delay of the inevitable.

WE GOTTA GET OUT OF THIS PLACE

Eric Burdon - The Animals - We Gotta Get Out Of This Place -

Read the two comments below for supplementary information:

THE DANBURY PRISON FIRE OF JULY 7, 1977 by Steve Savage "King of the Beasts"

2008-12-05T16:22:00.008-05:00

Vanderbilt Television News Archive
ABC Evening News for Thursday, Jul 07, 1977
Headline: Connecticut / Prison Fire

Fire at federal prison in Danbury, Connecticut, noted.
REPORTER: Harry Reasoner

(Danbury, Connecticut) Details of fire given. Prison officials say it was deliberately set; prisoners say it wasn't and that guards prevented them from reaching safety. [PRISONERS - say guards wouldn't let them out.] Danbury police sergeant Robert Lovell says he heard inmates, locked in dorm, breaking windows to get out, and that guards hampered efforts of firemen to rescue men. [LOVELL - says prison gates weren't opened to fire equipment upon arrival.] Acting warden Tony Young refuses comment re: Lovell's claim, but acknowledges vital escape route jammed when guards couldn't open emergency door. [YOUNG - thinks key broke off in door.] Federal investigators already at work.
REPORTER: James Walker (WTNH newsfilm, photos by Kenn Venit)

----------

February 1978, I was transported by Federal Marshalls from the Philadelphia Detention Center to the New York Metropolitan Correctional Center, then by Prison Bus to the Danbury Federal Prison to officially begin serving the 65 year sentence which had been imposed upon me.

Almost immediately upon my arrival at Danbury, and after processing, I found myself surrounded and greeted by many of the prison inmates, and several Guards, with an unexpected reverence which puzzled me, thinking that they may have mistaken me for someone else.

I was surprised to learn that they knew so much about me, and that they had been awaiting my arrival, especially since any news about my trial never reached the newspapers.

The Prison Grapevine System, the Internet of its time, apparently was quite effective at disseminating information.

Not more than several days had passed before, one by one, in private audience, the prisoners and one of the Guard Supervisors, who referred to himself as a Masonic Priest, began to approach me, seeking answers to a myriad of questions they posed for me, everything from how to spell a word to very esoteric spiritual matters. The inquirers included the Masonic Priest Guard, as well as several very well-educated Muslim inmates, Koranic scholars.

One day, one of the prisoners came to me and said that he was representing other prisoners seeking my help to get the proper authorities to investigate a horrendous wrong that had occurred in the prison several months before I arrived.

Wanting to understand why he sought my help, I asked him, "Who do you believe I am?"

"I believe that you were sent by God," he replied, then proceeded to tell me a horrific story about a fire of unknown origin in one of the prison units that claimed the lives of five inmates and injured seventy-one others.

Despite the prisoners pleas to let them out, to save them from the fire, prison officials not only refused to unlock the unit door to save them, they stood by dispassionately even as the flames were claiming the lives of the screaming, helpless inmates. Worse, they prevented others from coming to their rescue.

The City of Danbury Fire Department was stopped at the gates to the prison and were not allowed to enter. When the Danbury Fire Chief and his firefighters could no longer withstand the anguished screams and desperate cries for help, he threatened to crash the Fire Trucks through the gates.

It was only then that they were allowed access to the grounds where they rushed to unlock the main cell door to release the trapped prisoners from their burning Hell; but not before five inmates died from smoke inhalation and another seventy-one were injured.

No official investigation into the fire ever really took place. All of the prisoners, eighty or so, who were eyewitnesses to what had occurred, were transferred to various Federal Prisons throughout the system, thereby, effectively preventing any testimony that would reveal the horror that had been allowed to occur with such callous indifference.

Those who confided this information to me, were also witnesses, but managed to conceal their identities as to having knowledge of the holocaust for fear of transfer or reprisals.

I asked the prisoners to find out the names of the Congressmen and Senators who represented Connecticut, as well as those from their own states, with instructions to do this only by word-of-mouth from those whom they would see on visitors day.

Once I had the names, I wrote letters, addressed to the Legislators, detailing what had taken place at Danbury. The prisoners who were the incognito and anonymous witnesses, bravely signed the letters with their own signatures and passed them to the people who visited them on visitors day to be mailed from outside the purview of prison censors.

I never knew what effect the letters had because the official report below was published late in 1978, months after I was released. However, the text of the report indicates that the Connecticut Senators did make an inquiry. I wonder if they were satisfied with this very transparent "whitewash" job which fails to mention that five prisoners died and 71 were injured.

NCJ Number: NCJ 049687
Title: DANBURY (CT) PRISON FIRE - WHAT HAPPENED? WHAT HAS BEEN DONE TO PREVENT RECURRENCE?
Author(s): ANON
Corporate Author: US Government Accountability Office
United States
Sale: US Government Accountability Office
441 G Street, NW, Room LM
Washington, DC 20548
United States

National Institute of Justice/
NCJRS paper reproduction
Box 6000, Dept F
Rockville, MD 20849
United States
Publication Date: 1978

THIS REPORT EXAMINES CONDITIONS AT THE FEDERAL CORRECTIONAL INSTITUTION IN DANBURY, CONN., BEFORE AND AFTER THE FIRE OF JULY 7, 1977.

Abstract: TO DETERMINE WHAT HAPPENED DURING AND AFTER THE FIRE, THE GENERAL ACCOUNTING OFFICE (GAO) INTERVIEWED 57 INMATES, 16 PRISON STAFF MEMBERS, MEMBERS AND OFFICIALS OF THE BUREAU OF PRISON'S BOARD OF INQUIRY, AND OFFICIALS FROM THE RESPONDING FIRE DEPARTMENT AND THE DANBURY HOSPITAL; SPOKE WITH EXPERTS WHO INVESTIGATED THE FIRE; AND CONFERRED WITH REPRESENTATIVES OF THE NATIONAL FIRE PROTECTION ASSOCIATION REGARDING FIRE SAFETY IN CORRECTIONAL INSTITUTIONS. WITH RESPECT TO THE FIRE ITSELF, THE FOCUS OF THE GAO REVIEW WAS ON LOCATION OF THE FIRE, CORRECTIONAL PERSONNEL ON DUTY, ACTIONS OF INMATES PRIOR TO THE ARRIVAL OF CORRECTIONAL SUPERVISORS, LOCATION AND REACTION OF STAFF WHEN THE FIRE WAS REPORTED, RESPONSES BY CORRECTIONAL SUPERVISORS, EFFORTS TO RELEASE INMATES, ARRIVAL AND UTILIZATION OF THE DANBURY FIRE DEPARTMENT, MEDICAL CARE, AND INJURIES AND DEATHS. CONDITIONS CONTRIBUTING TO THE SEVERITY OF THE FIRE AND ACTIONS TAKEN TO IMPROVE FIRE SAFETY AT DANBURY AND OTHER FEDERAL INSTITUTIONS WERE ADDRESSED. THE GAO REVIEW WAS HINDERED BY THE LACK OF AVAILABLE PHYSICAL EVIDENCE, THE FACT THAT SEVERAL INMATES HAD BEEN TRANSFERRED OR RELEASED, CONFLICTING TESTIMONY, AND CONFUSION CAUSED BY THE FIRE. IT WAS DETERMINED THAT BUILDING MATERIALS WERE IN COMPLIANCE WITH CODES OF THE NATIONAL FIRE PROTECTION ASSOCIATION BUT THAT THE FACILITY DID NOT FULLY COMPLY WITH FIRE SAFETY TRAINING PREPAREDNESS GUIDELINES. THIS AGGRAVATED THE FIRE SITUATION AND HINDERED FIRE SUPPRESSION AND INMATE EVACUATION. WEAKNESSES IN THE FACILITY'S FIRE SAFETY PROGRAM INCLUDED INADEQUATE AND INFREQUENT FIRE SAFETY INSPECTIONS, AN INADEQUATE FIRE PLAN, THE ABSENCE OF RELIABLE EXITS, AND INADEQUATE LIGHTING. SIGNIFICANT FIRE SAFETY IMPROVEMENTS HAVE BEEN MADE AT DANBURY AND ARE PLANNED AT OTHER FEDERAL INSTITUTIONS. LETTERS FROM CONNECTICUT SENATORS AND FROM A DEPARTMENT OF JUSTICE OFFICIAL ABOUT THE FIRE ARE CONTAINED IN APPENDIXES, AS WELL AS A REPORT ON THE DEATH OF ONE INMATE. (DEP)

(For additional information click on "Comment")

YOU HAVE BEFORE YOU SCYLLA AND CHARYBDIS by Steve Savage "King of the Beasts"

2008-11-16T12:56:00.021-05:00

"I have come to cast fire upon the earth; and how I wish it were already kindled! But I have a baptism to undergo, and how distressed I am until it is accomplished! Do you suppose that I came to grant peace on earth? I tell you, no, but rather division; for from now on five members in one household will be divided, three against two and two against three. They will be divided, father against son and son against father, mother against daughter and daughter against mother, mother-in-law against daughter-in-law and daughter-in-law against mother-in-law." (Luke 12:49-53)

Torn Between Scylla And Charybdis*

As the economy sinks ever deeper into the "Bottomless Abyss," Food Bank shelves across our nation are becoming ever more bare. So many among us are suffering in silence, ashamed that somehow they may be responsible for the plight in which they now find themselves.

Millions have become as living corpses; the closed doors and shuttered windows of their homes have become their coffins, where they wait in dread for such time when they will be exhumed from their "graves" through foreclosure and reincarnated as pariahs.

The "Helpless" have become invisible to those around them who avert their eyes, grateful, for the moment, that it is not they who are down, unaware that they, too, are only "standing in line."

Our self-proclaimed leaders appear to be working desperately to assuage the situation, but it is only an illusion, a Fabian tactic, as it were. We have gone beyond the Point of No Return and have crossed, not the Rubicon, but the River Styx. Their pseudo-altruistic rhetoric is not to inspire hope but, rather, it is a fear-generated charade to save their own respective life stations when the burden upon the people becomes so onerous, that the defenses of the prosperous will collapse under the onslaught of the violent forces of Necessity.

The Fire which was foretold has been kindled and the Winds of War are beginning to fan the Flames which will drive us to the "Strait of Messina" where our Fate is inescapable.

The name of the Game is World at War. Will you die as Warriors or await some dishonorable, cowardly end?

You have before you Scylla and Charybdis.

WHICH WILL IT BE?

---------------

*NOTE: Scylla and Charybdis are two sea monsters of Greek mythology who were situated on opposite sides of the Strait of Messina between Sicily and Calabria, in Italy. They were located in close enough proximity to each other that avoiding Charybdis meant passing too closely to Scylla and vice versa.

THE DEATH ALIGNMENT IN COSMIC CYCLES by Steve Savage "King of the Beasts"

2008-11-09T14:17:00.035-05:00

From The Ancient Hebrew Book of Solomon:

I thank Thee, O Great Creator of the Universe, that Thou hast taught me the secrets of the Planets, that I may know the Times and Seasons of Things, the secrets of men's hearts, their thoughts, and the nature of their being. Thou gavest unto me this knowledge which is the foundation of all my Wisdom."

It is times like the one in which we currently find ourselves, that I look to Cosmic Archetypal Planetary Cycles for confirmation of my intuition. One aspect, in particular, the Saturn-Pluto Square Alignment, is now making its third appearance in my life. I call it the "DEATH ALIGNMENT."

THE SATURN-PLUTO SQUARE ALIGNMENT 1940

The Neptune-Pluto Septile aspect at the time of my birth in 1937 was Exact. In close proximity was the 33 year exact alignment of the Saturn-Pluto Cycle. This was a time of a symbolic descent into Hell; the Great Depression, the Rape of Nanking, Fascism, World War II, and, most significantly, the Nuremberg Laws of Nazi Germany which judged the quality of human life.

Thus, because Jews, the mentally and physically disabled, homosexuals, Jehovah Witnesses, political dissidents, etc., were classified as racially inferior, the systematic, bureaucratic, state-sponsored persecution and murder of these groups by the Nazi regime and its collaborators was sanctioned under these laws to justify the Final Solution.

THE SATURN-PLUTO SQUARE ALIGNMENT 1973

An exact square alignment of Saturn and Pluto also took place in August 1973, the time of my " CREATION EXPERIENCE ." This was the Alignment of the Vietnam War, Oil Crisis; Watergate; Chilean Coup, Initiation of Pol Pot's "Killing Field's," etc. Most significantly, it was the year of Roe v. Wade, the Supreme Court Decision, which like the Nuremberg Laws in the Saturn-Pluto Square which directly preceded it, judged the quality of human life by declaring that the fetus was not a "person." During the recession of 1973, home mortgage foreclosures resulted in tens of thousands of Americans being evicted from homes for which they could no longer afford monthly payments.

THE SATURN-PLUTO SQUARE ALIGNMENT 2009

In September of 2008, we approached the Saturn-Pluto Square Alignment which will fully manifest its characteristics in the time period of 2009 to 2011. We are in two wars, the housing bubble has burst, and the economy is dying.

If the last two square alignments are, indeed, an indication that the most significant feature of the Saturn-Pluto Square Alignment is Death and Destruction, that human life is classified as being either acceptable or inferior, then this one will be no exception.

The world is presently on a Slippery Slope, accelerating ever more rapidly, and deeper, into the Greatest Depression ever to befall mankind, exacerbated by natural disasters of every description.

"You will be hearing of wars and rumors of wars. See that you are not frightened, for those things must take place, but that is not yet the end.

"For nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom, and in various places there will be famines and earthquakes.

"But all these things are merely the beginning of birth pangs." - Matthew 24:6-8

Like Al Jolson said in the 1927 movie, "The Jazz Singer":
"You ain't seen nothin' yet!"

Because of limited resources, ignorance of true indebtedness, the drain of entitlements for the impoverished, the physically and mentally weak and helpless; and, for lack of what Nazi Germany referred to as Lebensraum, we're going to have to make some difficult choices very soon as to who will live and who will die or the choices will be made for us.

THE DEATH ALIGNMENT IS HERE!

THE GLORY OF THE LAST SOLOMONIC KINGS by Steve Savage "King of the Beasts"

2008-11-08T18:49:00.022-05:00

The Kebra Nagast: The Glory of the Kings

The Kebra Nagast is an account written in Ge'ez of the origins of the Solomonic line of the Emperors of Ethiopia. The text, in its existing form, is at least seven hundred years old, and is considered by many Ethiopian Christians to be an inspired and a reliable account. Not only does it contain an account of how the Queen of Sheba met Solomon, and about how the Ark of the Covenant came to Ethiopia with Menelik I, but it contains an account of the conversion of the Ethiopians from the worship of the Sun, Moon, and Stars to that of the "Lord God of Israel". "The Kebra Nagast is not merely a literary work, but -- as the Old Testament to the Hebrews or the Qur'an to the Arabs -- it is the repository of Ethiopian national and religious feelings."

Below the Imperial Crest of the House of Solomon are two photos of the last true Kings Of Ethiopia: Ras Makonnen and his son, Haile Selassie I, "Conquering Lion of the Tribe of Judah, Lord of Lords, King of Kings of Ethiopia and Elect of God."

When I first viewed these photos, I was struck by the unbelievable hypnotic aura of power and presence radiated by these two Father-Son, Warrior-Priest, Philosopher Kings, whose royal lineage, the world's oldest, can trace its existence to the ancient emperors of Ethiopia, especially Menelek, son of The Queen of Sheba by Solomon.

The Imperial Crest of the House of Solomon

Ras Makonnen, father of Haile Selassie I, in 1902
(click on image to enlarge)

Haile Selassie I, Conquering Lion of the Tribe of Judah, Lord of Lords, King of Kings of Ethiopia and Elect of God, in 1934
(click on image to enlarge)

THE MYSTERY OF CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS by Steve Savage "King of the Beasts"

2008-10-12T00:01:00.013-04:00

CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS KNEELING ON THE ISLAND HE NAMED SAN SALVADOR, OCTOBER 12, 1492

Today is Columbus Day observed, the day in which America honors and remembers Christopher Columbus, the Great Italian Explorer-Discoverer, whose faith, courage, and intelligence, has earned him a place in history as The World's Greatest Hero.

Although not celebrated as such, Columbus Day is the holiest day in all of New World Christendom because it is the day that fulfilled our Lord God's desire to establish a New World for his Children - a place where He could look down upon them and love them and bless them beyond all measure.

To understand the mystery of what I am about to reveal to you, consider this: All that exists was first conceived beyond Time as an idea in the Mind of God. This idea was given a name, i.e., a Word, which then became manifest.

So as a carpenter thinks of something upon which to sit, calls it a "Chair," then creates the physical "Chair," so God is the "Thinker," Jesus His "Word," and you His "Thoughts."

Thus, just as the "idea-of-the-Chair" and the "Chair" are one and the same, so, too, are Jesus and the Creator One and the Same - and so, too, are you, because you are in Him and He in you. You are the Children of God.

Now, consider this. Even though the written records of a historical Jesus Christ's sojourn on Earth have been, for the most part, destroyed through the burning of books, libraries, and wholesale slaughter of those who were witnesses of Him, the physical evidence that he was here, is before your eyes in the physical realities of the Sun, the Moon, the Planets, and the Stars.

You have been falsely led to believe by the "Deniers" of God's Existence, that these things are the mythological origins of your belief in Jesus Christ, when the truth is that they are His Works, authored by Him.

Because all that is opposed to the Divinity of Christ, by those who deny the existence of God, Columbus Day is on the endangered American Holiday ("Holy Day") list, and the target for eradication.

"Certain persons have crept in unnoticed, those who were long beforehand marked out for this condemnation, ungodly persons who turn the grace of our God into licentiousness and deny our only Master and Lord, Jesus Christ."

A great people among you, the Italian-Americans, the descendants of those who fought and died for America through all of it wars, who defended this land discovered by an Italian, and named for an Italian, stand against the elimination of the holiday that is their equivalent of St. Patrick's Day.

In an obscene war of character attrition, Italian-Americans are being systematically subjected to a media onslaught of prejudices and social injustices that would be classified as race and hate crimes, were they directed at any other racial group or ethnicity.

Why is no one coming forward to speak out against this denigration of the Italian-Americans? Why, indeed, when before your very eyes, you can see for yourselves that Italian-Americans are the continuance of that shining light that shone within their ancestors when they resided in that era of the Quattrocento that Swiss Historian, Jacob Christoph Burckhardt, reverently called "The Cradle of Western Civilization?"

The answer is that it is the intention of powerful entities to once again, metaphorically, "Burn the Books." By defaming and negatively stereotyping Italian-Americans, throwing paint on statues of Columbus, writing him out of history books, seeking to change the name of his holiday to some meaningless secular "day-off-from-work" day, such as "Indigenous Peoples Day," it becomes that much easier to eliminate a proof of God's Existence.

If the antagonists are allowed to succeed in their agenda, Columbus will, one day, like God and Jesus Christ, become a personage whose existence will become apocryphal, mythological, a fairy tale, placing doubt in the minds of the ignorant as to whether he ever existed at all, in much the same way false claims that the Nazi Holocaust never existed are polluting the general consciousness.

Here, then, is the Mystery of Columbus Revealed:

When God first thought to create a land for his Children, since Jesus is the "Word" and because "He (the Word) was in the beginning with God; all things were made through him, and without him was not anything made that was made.", it was necessary that Christ be the one to bring that new land into existence because He is also the Creator.

The one chosen by God to perform the physical act of bringing Christianity to the new land was Christopher Columbus.

Columbus was born in Genoa, Italy. The etymological derivation of "Genoa" is from the Ligurian word "Genua," which means "Knee." This is further seen in the word, "Genuflect," which means "to kneel."

The name "Christopher" means "Christ Bearer," and "Columbus" is the taxonomic classification for the "Dove," which is the symbol of The Holy Spirit, the "Navigator" or "Guiding Light."

The Vessel which bore Jesus in the womb, was Mary; the vessel which bore Christianity to the New World, was the Santa Maria.

Despite the lack of present day instrumentation, Columbus, on subsequent voyages, unerringly returned again and again to the exact locations from which he left. It is for this reason he was admiringly referred to by the metonymy, "The Navigator."

October 12, 1492, Columbus fulfilled the destiny and liturgy that was ordained for him by the location of his birth. As he set foot upon the soil of the New World, he dropped to one knee, and humbly named the land San Salvador, Holy Savior, in the name of that most precious spiritual cargo which he unknowingly carried within himself his entire life.

THE ISLANDERS - A Fable

2008-09-26T14:44:00.017-04:00

PINK FLOYD - Is There Anybody Out There?

"When the student is ready, the teacher will come."

In 1973, the year of my CREATION EXPERIENCE - a year whose digits add up to "20," which in Numerology signifies "The Awakening," a great spiritual teacher, Sufi Mystic Nawab-Zada Sayed Idries Shah el-Hashimi, the Sufi Teacher of the Age, revealed himself as such to me in a mystical manner not understood by the "Uninitiated," to pass on to me the secret traditions behind all religious and philosophical systems.

Superficially, this fable, which I am retelling to you, appears to be about swimmers and builders of ships. However, it is a cryptic message, a parable if you will, designed to convey meaning to those whom Jesus referred to as, "He who has ears to hear, let him hear!"

Freemasons, Sufis, Templars, Gnostics, and others who are possessed of "Double Knowledge," will see that the name of the original community in the fable, El Ar, is an anagram for "Real," and that the name adopted by the revolutionaries of the fable is "Please," which can be arranged to form the word "Asleep."

The fable is not complete, because there are still people left here on the Island.

This is an attempt to find the "Others." Thus far, in my 37 year Quest, I have found two others.

Steve Savage "King of the Beasts"
-------

THE ISLANDERS - A Fable
By Nawab-Zada Sayed Idries Shah el-Hashimi
[Idries Shah was born at Simla in the Himalayas, and is Grand Sheikh of the Sufis and the eldest son of the Nawab (the Mohammedan equivalent of Maharaja) of Sardana, near Delhi in India. His family originates from the principality of Pagham in the Hindu Khoosh, where his ancestors have reigned since 1221, and claims senior descent from Mohammed in Islam.]

Once upon a time there lived an ideal community in a far-off land. Its members had no fears as we now know them. Instead of uncertainty and vacillation, they had a purposefulness and a fuller means of expressing themselves.

Although there were none of its stresses and tensions which mankind now considers essential to its progress, their lives were richer, because other, better elements replaced these things.

Theirs, therefore, was a slightly different mode of existence. We could almost say that our present perceptions are a crude, makeshift version of the real ones that this community possessed.

They had real lives, not semi-lives.

They had a leader, who discovered that their country was to become uninhabitable for a period of, shall we say, 20,000 years. He planned their escape, realizing that their descendants would be able to return home successfully, only after many trials.

He found for them a place of refuge, an island whose features were only roughly similar to those of the original homeland.

Because of the difference in climate and situation, the immigrants had to undergo a transformation.

This made them more physically and mentally adapted to the new circumstances: coarse perceptions, for instance, were substituted for finer ones, as when the manual laborer becomes toughened in response to the needs of his calling.

In order to reduce the pain which a comparison between the old and new states would bring, they were made to forget the past almost entirely.

Only the most shadowy recollection of it remained, yet it was sufficient to be awakened when the time came.

The system was very complicated, but well arranged. The organs by means of which the people survived on the island were also made the organs of enjoyment, physical and mental. The organs which were really constructive in the old homeland were placed in a special form of abeyance, and linked with the shadowy memory, in preparation for its eventual activation.

Slowly and painfully the immigrants settled down, adjusting themselves to the local conditions. The resources of the island were such that, coupled with effort and a certain form of guidance, people would be able to escape to a further island on the way back to their original home. This was the first of a succession of islands upon which gradual acclimatization took place.

The responsibility of this “evolution” was vested in those individuals who could sustain it. These were necessarily only a few, because for the mass of the people the effort of keeping both sets of knowledge in their consciousness was virtually impossible. One of them seemed to conflict with the other. Certain specialists guarded the “special science.”

This “secret,” the method of effecting the transition, was nothing more or less than the knowledge of maritime skills and their application. The escape needed an instructor, raw materials, people, effort and understanding. Given these, people could learn to swim, and also to build ships.

The people who were originally in charge of the escape operation made it clear to everyone that a certain preparation was necessary before anyone could learn to swim or even take part in building a ship. For a time the process continued satisfactorily.

Then a man who had been found, for the time being, lacking in the necessary qualities rebelled against this order and managed to develop a masterly idea. He had observed that the effort to escape placed a heavy and often seemingly unwelcome burden upon the people. At the same time they were disposed to believe things which they were told about the escape operation. He realized that he could acquire power, and also revenge himself upon those who had undervalued him, as he thought, by a simple exploitation of these two sets of facts.

He would merely offer to take away the burden, by affirming that there was no burden.

He made his announcement: “There is no need for man to integrate his mind and train it in the way which has been described to you. The human mind is already a stable and continuous, consistent thing. You have been told that you have to become a craftsman in order to build a ship. I say, not only do you not need to be a craftsman – you do not need a ship at all!

"An islander needs only to observe a few simple rules to survive and remain integrated into society. By the exercise of common sense, born into everyone, he can attain anything upon this island, our home, the common property and heritage of all.”

The tonguester, having gained a great deal of interest among the people, now proved his message by saying: “If there is any reality in ships and swimming, show us ships which have made the journey, and swimmers who have come back!”

This was a challenge to the instructors which they could not meet. It was based upon an assumption of which the bemused herd could not now see the fallacy. You see, ships never returned from the other land. Swimmers, when they did come back, had undergone a fresh adaptation which made them invisible to the crowd.

The mob pressed for demonstrative proof.

“Shipbuilding,” said the escapers, in an attempt to reason with the revolt, “is an art and a craft. The learning and the exercise of this lore depends upon special techniques. These together make up a total activity, which cannot be examined piecemeal, as you demand. This activity has an impalpable element, called ‘baraka,’ from which the work ‘barque’ – a ship – is derived. This word means ‘the Subtlety,’ and cannot be shown to you.”

“Art, craft, total, baraka, nonsense!” shouted the revolutionaries.

And so they hanged as many shipbuilding craftsmen as they could find.

The new gospel was welcomed on all sides as one of liberation. Man had discovered that he was already mature! He felt, for the time at least, as if he had been released from responsibility.

Most other ways of thinking were soon swamped by the simplicity and comfort of the revolutionary concept. Soon it was considered to be a basic fact, which had never been challenged by any rational person. Rational, of course, meant anyone who harmonized with the general theory itself, upon which society was now based.

Ideas which opposed the new one were easily called irrational. Anything irrational was bad. Thereafter, even if he had doubts, the individual had to suppress them or divert them, because he must at all costs be thought rational.

It was not very difficult to be rational. One had only to adhere to the values of society. Further, evidence of the truth of rationality abounded—providing that one did not think beyond the life of the island.

Society had now temporarily equilibrated itself within the island, and seemed to provide a plausible completeness, if viewed by means of itself. It was based upon reason plus emotion, making both seem plausible. Cannibalism, for instance, was permitted on rational grounds. The human body was found to be edible. Edibility was a characteristic of food. Therefore the human body was food.

In order to compensate for the shortcomings of this reasoning, a makeshift was arranged. Cannibalism was controlled, in the interests of society. Compromise was the trademark of temporary balance. Every now and again someone pointed out a new compromise, and the struggle between reason, ambition, and community produced some fresh social norm.

Since the skills of boatbuilding had no obvious application within this society, the effort could easily be considered absurd. Boats were not needed—there was nowhere to go. The consequences of certain assumptions can be made to “prove” those assumptions. This is what is called a pseudocertainty, the substitute for real certainty. It is what we deal in every day, when we assume that we will live another day. But our islanders applied it to everything.

The words “displeasing” and “unpleasant” were used on the island to indicate anything which conflicted with the new gospel, which was itself known as “Please.” The idea behind this was that people would now please themselves, within the general need to please the State. The State was taken to mean all the people.

It is hardly surprising that from quite early times the very thought of leaving the island filled most people with terror. Similarly, very real fear is to be seen in long-term prisoners who are about to be released. “Outside” the place of captivity is a vague, unknown, threatening world.

The island was not a prison. But it was a cage with invisible bars, more effective than obvious ones ever could be.

The insular society became more and more complex, and we can look at only a few of its outstanding features. Its literature was a rich one. In addition to cultural compositions, there were numerous books which explained the values and achievements of the nation. There was also a system of allegorical fiction, which portrayed how terrible life might have been, had society not arranged itself in the present reassuring pattern.

From time to time instructors tried to help the whole community to escape. Captains sacrificed themselves for the reestablishment of a climate in which the now concealed shipbuilders could continue their work. All these efforts were interpreted by historians and sociologists with reference to conditions on the island, without thought for any contact outside this closed society.

Plausible explanations of almost anything were comparatively easy to produce. No principle of ethics was involved, because scholars continued to study with genuine dedication what seemed to be true. “What more can we do?” they asked, implying by the word “more” that the alternative might be an effort of quantity.

Or they asked each other, “What else can we do?” assuming that the answer might be “else”—something different. Their real problem was that they assumed themselves able to formulate the questions, and ignored the fact that the questions were every bit as important as the answers.

Of course the islanders had plenty of scope for thought and action within their own small domain. The variations of ideas and differences of opinion gave the impression of freedom of thought. Thought was encouraged, providing that it was not “absurd.”

Freedom of speech was allowed. It was of little use without the development of understanding, which was not pursued.

The work and the emphasis of the navigators had to take on different aspects in accordance with the changes in the community. This made their reality even more baffling to the students who tried to follow them from the island point of view.

Amid all the confusion, even the capacity to remember the possibility of escape could at times become an obstacle.

The stirring consciousness of escape potential was not very discriminating.

More often than not the eager would-be escapers settled for any kind of substitute.

A vague concept of navigation cannot become useful without orientation. Even the most eager potential shipbuilders had been trained to believe that they already had that orientation. They were already mature. They hated anyone who pointed out that they might need a preparation.

Bizarre versions of swimming or shipbuilding often crowded out possibilities of real progress. Very much to blame were the advocates of pseudoswimming or allegorical ships, mere hucksters, who offered lessons to those as yet too weak to swim, or passages on ships which they could not build.

They needs of the society had originally made necessary certain forms of efficiency and thinking which developed into what was known as science. This admirable approach, so essential in the fields where it had application, finally outran its real meaning. The approach called “scientific,” soon after the “Please” revolution, became stretched until it covered all manner of ideas.

Eventually things which could not be brought within its bounds became known as “unscientific,” another convenient synonym for “bad.” Words were unknowingly taken prisoner and then automatically enslaved.

In the absence of a suitable attitude, like people who, thrown upon their own resources in a waiting room, feverishly read magazines, the islanders absorbed themselves in finding substitutes for the fulfillment which was the original (and indeed the final) purpose of this community’s exile.

Some were able to divert their attention more or less successfully into mainly emotional commitments. There were different ranges of emotion, but no adequate scale for measuring them. All emotion was considered to be “deep” or “profound”—at any rate more profound than non-emotion. Emotion, which was seen to move people to the most extreme physical and mental acts known, was automatically termed “deep.”

The majority of people set themselves targets, or allowed others to set them for them. They might pursue one cult after another, or money, or social prominence. Some worshiped some things and felt themselves superior to all the rest. Some, by repudiating what they thought worship was, thought that they had no idols, and could therefore safely sneer at all the rest.

As the centuries passed, the island was littered with the debris of these cults. Worse than ordinary debris, it was self-perpetuating. Well-meaning and other people combined the cults and recombined them, and they spread anew. For the amateur and intellectual, this constituted a mine of academic or “initiatory” material, giving a comforting sense of variety.

Magnificent facilities for the indulging of limited “satisfactions” proliferated. Palaces and monuments, museums and universities, institutes of learning, theater and sports stadiums almost filled the island. The people naturally prided themselves on these endowments, many of which they considered to be linked in a general way with ultimate truth, though exactly how this was so escaped almost all of them.

Shipbuilding was connected with some dimensions of this activity, but in a way unknown to almost everyone.

Clandestinely the ships raised their sails, the swimmers continued to teach swimming…

The conditions on the island did not entirely fill these dedicated people with dismay. After all, they too had originated in the very same community, and had indissoluble bonds with it, and with its destiny.

But they very often had to preserve themselves from the attentions of their fellow citizens. Some “normal” islanders tried to save them from themselves. Others tried to kill them, for an equally sublime reason. Some even sought their help eagerly, but could not find them.

All these reactions to the existence of the swimmers were the result of the same cause, filtered through different kinds of minds. This cause was that hardly anyone now knew what a swimmer really was, what he was doing, or where he could be found.

As the life of the island became more and more civilized, a strange but logical industry grew up. It was devoted to ascribing doubts to the validity of the system under which the society lived. It succeeded in absorbing doubts about social values by laughing at them or satirizing them. The activity could wear a sad or happy face, but it really became a repetitious ritual. A potentially valuable industry, it was often prevented from exercising its really creative function.

People felt that, having allowed their doubts to have temporary expression, they would in some way assuage them, exorcise them, almost propitiate them. Satire passed for meaningful allegory; allegory was accepted but not digested. Plays, books, films, poems, lampoons were the usual media for this development, though there was a strong section of it in more academic fields.

For many islanders it seemed more emancipated, more modern or progressive, to follows this cult rather than the older ones.

Here and there a candidate still represented himself to a swimming instructor, to make his bargain. Usually what amounted to a stereotyped conversation took place.

“I want to learn to swim.”

“Do you want to make a bargain about it?”

“No. I only have to take my ton of cabbage.”

“What cabbage?”

“The food which I will need on the other island.”

“There is better food there.”

“I don’t know what you mean. I cannot be sure. I must take my cabbage.”

“You cannot swim, for one thing, with a ton of cabbage.”

“Then I cannot go. You call it a load. I call it my essential nutrition.”

“Suppose, as an allegory, we say not ‘cabbage’ but ‘assumptions,’ or ‘destructive ideas’?”

“I am going to take my cabbage to some instructor who understands my needs.”

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THE MAN OF LAWLESSNESS REVEALED

OH PEOPLE! THE "THOUGHT POLICE" ARE HERE!

2008-09-17T08:34:00.015-04:00

FIRST CRIME CONVICTION BASED ON MIND READING SCAN
Some scientists predict the end of lying as we know it. Can the "Minority Report" be far behind? By Anand Giridharadas

MINORITY REPORT

Now, well before any consensus on the technology’s readiness, India has become the first country to convict someone of a crime relying on evidence from this controversial machine: a brain scanner that produces images of the human mind in action and is said to reveal signs that a suspect remembers details of the crime in question.

Since the Sept. 11 attacks, the United States has plowed money into brain-based lie detection in the hope of producing more fruitful counterterrorism investigations.

The technologies, generally regarded as promising but unproved, have yet to be widely accepted as evidence — except in India, where in recent years judges have begun to admit brain scans. But it was only in June, in a murder case in Pune, in Maharashtra State, that a judge explicitly cited a scan as proof that the suspect’s brain held “experiential knowledge” about the crime that only the killer could possess, sentencing her to life in prison.

Psychologists and neuroscientists in the United States, which has been at the forefront of brain-based lie detection, variously called India’s application of the technology to legal cases “fascinating,” “ridiculous,” “chilling” and “unconscionable.”

Law enforcement officials from several countries, including Israel and Singapore, have shown interest in the brain-scanning technology and have visited government labs that use it in interrogations, Indian officials said.

Methods of eliciting truth have long proved problematic. Truth drugs tend to make suspects babble as much falsehood as truth. Polygraph tests measure anxiety more than deception, and good liars may not feel anxious. In 1998, the United States Supreme Court said there was “simply no consensus that polygraph evidence is reliable.”

This latest Indian attempt at getting past criminals’ defenses begins with an electroencephalogram, or EEG, in which electrodes are placed on the head to measure electrical waves. The suspect sits in silence, eyes shut. An investigator reads aloud details of the crime — as prosecutors see it — and the resulting brain images are processed using software built in Bangalore.

The software tries to detect whether, when the crime’s details are recited, the brain lights up in specific regions — the areas that, according to the technology’s inventors, show measurable changes when experiences are relived, their smells and sounds summoned back to consciousness. The inventors of the technology claim the system can distinguish between people’s memories of events they witnessed and between deeds they committed.

The Brain Electrical Oscillations Signature test, or BEOS, was developed by Champadi Raman Mukundan, a neuroscientist who formerly ran the clinical psychology department of the National Institute of Mental Health and Neuro Sciences in Bangalore. His system builds on methods developed at American universities by other scientists, including Emanuel Donchin, Lawrence A. Farwell and J. Peter Rosenfeld.

Despite the technology’s promise — some believe it could transform investigations as much as DNA evidence has.

One British forensic psychologist said he found the presentation highly convincing.

“According to the cases that have been presented to me, BEOS has clearly demonstrated its utility in providing admissible evidence that has been used to assist in the conviction of defendants in court,” Keith Ashcroft, a frequent expert witness in the British courts, said.

About 75 crime suspects and witnesses have undergone the test since late 2006. But the technique received its strongest official endorsement, forensic investigators here say, on June 12, when a judge convicted a woman of murder based on evidence that included polygraph and BEOS tests.

The woman, Aditi Sharma, was accused of killing her former fiancé, Udit Bharati. They were living in Pune when Ms. Sharma met another man and eloped with him to Delhi. Later Ms. Sharma returned to Pune and, according to prosecutors, asked Mr. Bharati to meet her at a McDonald’s. She was accused of poisoning him with arsenic-laced food.

Ms. Sharma, 24, agreed to take a BEOS test. (Suspects may be tested only with their consent, but forensic investigators say many agree because they assume it will spare them an aggressive police interrogation.)

After placing 32 electrodes on Ms. Sharma’s head, investigators said, they read aloud their version of events, speaking in the first person (“I bought arsenic”; “I met Udit at McDonald’s”), along with neutral statements like “The sky is blue,” which help the software distinguish memories from normal cognition.

For an hour, Ms. Sharma said nothing. But the relevant nooks of her brain where memories are thought to be stored buzzed when the crime was recounted, according to Mr. Joseph, the state investigator. The judge endorsed Mr. Joseph’s assertion that the scans were proof of “experiential knowledge” of having committed the murder, rather than just having heard about it.

Ms. Sharma insists that she is innocent.

Even as the debate continues over using scans to trip up obfuscators, researchers are developing new uses for the technology. No Lie MRI, a company in California, promises on its Web site to use the scans to help with developing interpersonal trust and military intelligence, among other tasks. In August, a committee of the National Research Council in Washington predicted that, with greater research, brain scans could eventually aid “the acquisition of intelligence from captured unlawful combatants” and “the screening of terrorism suspects at checkpoints.”

If brain scans are widely adopted, they said, “the legal issues alone are enormous, implicating at least the First, Fourth, Fifth, Sixth, Seventh and 14th Amendments to the U.S. Constitution.”

“At the same time,” they continued, “the potential benefits to society of such a technology, if used well, could be at least equally large.”

WE WILL ALL BE TOGETHER AS ONE - AGAIN! by Steve Savage "King of the Beasts"

2008-09-14T17:53:00.029-04:00

We're all fractionated parts of the One, like separate cups, each filled with water (Spirit, Life) from the same source. When the cup is broken (Death), the water returns to the source from which it came, drops returning to the Ocean, the One True Consciousness.

The Universe (Existence) is a Hologram, a Projection. Break it into tiny pieces and each piece retains the image of the Whole. Each one of us is everyone and everything. There are no others, only ourselves in different forms. That's why Jesus said, "I am in the Father and the Father is in Me, because I and my Father are One."

We should make every effort to see ourselves in others and to understand why, when you forgive, you are forgiven; why when you judge others, you, yourself are judged; why we were given the Golden Rule and the Two Great Commandments.

So many have tried to explain Existence in such complex technical terms, that it's no wonder there is confusion and lack of understanding. Science is now spending billions of dollars searching for the God Particle, the Higgs Boson, from which it is believed all matter originated, i.e., the "Nothingness" from which everything came by dividing itself over and over again.

What they're looking for they will not find, because as Jerry Wheatley one of the most brilliant minds of our time, has declared:

"The Higgs boson doesn't exist. It doesn't exhibit mass. It is the "particle" that gives rise to particles exhibiting mass: those that do exist. The Higgs is not part of reality. It is what generates reality. The Higgs is more properly associated with "potentiality" rather than reality. It turns out potentiality is more real than "reality." It is potentiality that underlies quantum nonseparability. Therefore, reality is a projection of potentiality and hence is illusory."

Two-thousand years ago, St. Paul did his best to explain this most elusive of all mysteries to an audience of lower calibrated awareness, by saying, "By One Spirit are we all baptized into one Body, whether we bond or free, Jews or Gentiles."

We're like a string of multi-colored Christmas lights on the Tree of Life. When one bulb (body) goes out (dies), the Electricity (life) completes the circuit and returns to the Source (God) from which it came. Electricity (Life) never dies. When the burnt bulb (body) is replaced on the string with a new bulb (body), it lights up, sometimes with parts of the same electricity (Life) that once illuminated other Bulbs, accounting for prodigies, genius, talent, and belief in Reincarnation.

When all the bulbs are finally extinguished (the End Time, Kali Yuga, End of the Age, etc.), the Electricity (Life) gathers back into itself as One again (the Big Sleep, the Night of Brahman, Absolute Potentiality).

The Law of Conservation states that the sum total of energy and matter is constant; it can neither be created nor destroyed. This applies to Life, as well. The Three are a Trinity; three aspects of the One; One and the Same.

TOGETHER AGAIN
My tears have stopped falling
The long lonely nights are now at an end
The key to my heart you hold in your hand
And nothing else matters now we're together again
[ steel guitar ]
Together again the grey skies're gone
You're back in my arms now where you belong
The love that I knew is living again
And nothing else matters now we're together again
And nothing else matters now we're together again

Was Ken Jennings a Shill to Increase JEOPARDY's Falling Ratings? by Steve Savage "King of the Beasts"

2008-09-11T14:11:00.011-04:00

I have watched every Jeopardy Game Show since its inception: in 1964-1975, when Art Fleming was the original host, and in its present incarnation with Alex Trebeck as host, if not the first time around, at least in the re-runs.

Currently, I am following the Ken Jennings re-runs on the Game Show Network. Today was his 12th appearance. He has 63 to go before losing to Nancy Zerg, who dethroned him as Jeopardy! champ in appearance Number 75.

[NOTE: Before Ken Jennings arrived on the scene, Jeopardy was beginning to founder in the ratings.]

Having been associated with a brilliant business partner, Liam MacSheon, for more than 25 years, who is blessed with an encyclopedic memory and instant recall, I could not imagine that another human being possessed Liam's cerebral database of stored knowledge.

During Ken Jennings' first appearances on the show, the antenna on my suspicious nature quickly rose to grasp every subtle nuance associated with this never-before- seen phenomenon. "Is this for real?" "Are we actually witnessing a replay of Twenty One?" Is Ken Jennings a shill in the remake of Charles Van Doren, and is Alex Trebeck playing Jack Barry ?"

Now that the Game Show Network has given me a second look at Ken Jennings, I'm beginning to see a pattern of "questions" which he answers that cannot be answered by the other contestants; questions so abstruse that only he could "know" the answer and, thereby, dramatically increase his lead.

His "guesses" at relatively easy questions appear feigned, at best.

It is not just the questions he answers that arouse my suspicions, but I am absolutely astonished, flabbergasted, I would say, because the ones that he misses is incredulous to say the least, since many are well within the parameters of the body of knowledge he already appears to possess.

Yesterday, one of the Double Jeopardy questions alluded to a diminutive Charles Dickens character with a sister named Florence. How many of you would have answered "Tiny Tim," based on "diminutive" and "Dickens?"

Well, you would have been wrong. The correct answer is: "Paul Dombey, Jr."

Musn't forget the "Jr." Needless to say, Ken Jennings answered correctly and increased his lead dramatically after the others missed.

Case in point: He stumbled on this Final Jeopardy! answer in his final appearance:

"Most of this firm's 70,000 seasonal white-collar employees work only four months a year."

Jennings asked, "What is FedEx?"

Nancy Zerg correctly responded, "What is H&R Block?"

This looks, for all the world, like Herb Stempel's scripted loss to an easy question he knew so the more-popular Charles Van Doren could perpetuate the fraud.
--
Steve Savage "King of the Beasts"

WE MUST NEVER FORGET! REMEMBERING 911.

2008-09-11T08:46:00.006-04:00

"WE ARE THE EAGLE"
by Steve Savage "King of the Beasts"

When you killed the Gentle Children you broke our Father’s Heart;
We cannot bear His Grief and Hurt, the tears that dare not start.
He commanded us very clearly “Thou Shall Not Kill!”
How could you harm His Loved Ones and make their voices still?
Are we really Brothers, evil as you are?
You’ve revealed yourself not of our Sun but of some Eastern Star.
When first you murdered in the Distant Past,
Our blinding rage was fierce and we reached for stones to cast.
But that Protective Mark He gave you was a shield against our Wrath;
“Do him no harm,” He said. “He’s on a different Path.”
Then among the Men of Peace you hid preaching your Scriptural Lie:
“Kill yourselves and God’s Children and you’ll be in Heaven when you die.”
O’, you evil deluded Slime beyond the most corrupt;
You foolishly attacked our Mountain a volcano long ready to erupt.
How dare you defile our Kingdom the very Land We Love!
You’re an Evil Serpent among us cloaked in the guise of a Dove.
O’, rejoice aloud of your treachery; sing songs of it in your streets;
Beat the Drums of Joy and Laughter to applaud your sinful feats.
The Eagle will soon be coming; He’s spread His Wings to fly;
He’s sharpening His Beak and Talons; His mission to make you Die.
We are the Eagle, God’s Own Bird;
Majestic in our position, Obedient to His Word.
We shall be the Witnesses at the Judgment of your Soul,
To erase your name forever from the Father’s Living Scroll.

THE SUNSPOT ENIGMA: THE SUN IS "DEAD." by Steve Savage "King of the Beasts"

2008-09-05T21:56:00.008-04:00

The Sunspot Enigma: The Sun is “Dead”

Dark spots, some as large as 50,000 miles in diameter, typically move across the surface of the sun, contracting and expanding as they go. These strange and powerful phenomena are known as sunspots, but now they are all gone. Not even solar physicists know why it’s happening and what this odd solar silence might be indicating for our future.

Although periods of inactivity are normal for the sun, this current period has gone on much longer than usual and scientists are starting to worry—at least a little bit. Recently 100 scientists from Europe, Asia, Latin America, Africa and North America gathered to discuss the issue at an international solar conference at Montana State University. Today's sun is as inactive as it was two years ago, and solar physicists don’t have a clue as to why.

"It continues to be dead," said Saku Tsuneta with the National Astronomical Observatory of Japan, program manager for the Hinode solar mission, noting that it is at least a little bit worrisome for scientists.

Dana Longcope, a solar physicist at MSU, said the sun usually operates on an 11-year cycle with maximum activity occurring in the middle of the cycle. The last cycle reached its peak in 2001 and is believed to be just ending now, Longcope said. The next cycle is just beginning and is expected to reach its peak sometime around 2012. But so far nothing is happening.

"It's a dead face," Tsuneta said of the sun's appearance.

Tsuneta said solar physicists aren't weather forecasters and they can't predict the future. They do have the ability to observe, however, and they have observed a longer-than-normal period of solar inactivity. In the past, they observed that the sun once went 50 years without producing sunspots. That period coincided with a little ice age on Earth that lasted from 1650 to 1700. Coincidence? Some scientists say it was, but many worry that it wasn’t.

Geophysicist Phil Chapman, the first Australian to become an astronaut with NASA, said pictures from the US Solar and Heliospheric Observatory also show that there are currently no spots on the sun. He also noted that the world cooled quickly between January last year and January this year, by about 0.7C.

"This is the fastest temperature change in the instrumental record, and it puts us back to where we were in 1930," Dr Chapman noted in The Australian today.

If the world does face another mini Ice Age, it could come without warning. Evidence for abrupt climate change is readily found in ice cores taken from Greenland and Antarctica. One of the best known examples of such an event is the Younger Dryas cooling, which occurred about 12,000 years ago, named after the arctic wildflower found in northern European sediments. This event began and ended rather abruptly, and for its entire 1000 year duration the North Atlantic region was about 5°C colder. Could something like this happen again? There’s no way to tell, and because the changes can happen all within one decade—we might not even see it coming.

The Younger Dryas occurred at a time when orbital forcing should have continued to drive climate to the present warm state. The unexplained phenomenon has been the topic of much intense scientific debate, as well as other millennial scale events.

Now this 11-year low in Sunspot activity has raised fears among a small but growing number of scientists that rather than getting warmer, the Earth could possibly be about to return to another cooling period. The idea is especially intriguing considering that most of the world is in preparation for global warming.

Canadian scientist Kenneth Tapping of the National Research Council has also noted that solar activity has entered into an unusually inactive phase, but what that means—if anything—is still anyone’s guess. Another solar scientist, Oleg Sorokhtin, a fellow of the Russian Academy of Natural Sciences, however, is certain that it’s an indication of a coming cooling period.

Sorokhtin believes that a lack of sunspots does indicate a coming cooling period based on certain past trends and early records. In fact, he calls manmade climate change "a drop in the bucket" compared to the fierce and abrupt cold that can potentially be brought on by inactive solar phases.

Sorokhtin’s advice: "Stock up on fur coats"…just in case.

THE SUN AWAKENS by Steve Savage

2008-09-01T08:13:00.015-04:00

Surya Namaskar, The Sun Salutation

Several years ago, for greater strength and flexibility, I added an expanded, much more advanced, Surya Namaskar, Sun Salutation, than is shown in this video, as a prelude to my otherwise daily morning routine of T'ai Chi, Kung Fu, and Hatha Yoga, in that order. The asanas, i.e., poses, of the Sun Salutation, begin and end, significantly enough, in the Tadasana, the Mountain Pose. Through this very prayerful ("let Thy thoughts, be my thoughts"), personal relationship with the Giver of All Life, I have come to understand the Mind of the Sun through my 36 year quest to discover the meaning of my CREATION EXPERIENCE .

In the Beginning, the fusion reaction explosion of the Big Bang, the Awakening, the beginning of Self-Awareness, sent its matter hurtling at great speed outward in every direction in all sizes and speeds, both gases and molten solids.

Within my Creation Experience post, I wrote: "There was nothing else (but me, the Sun). No light. No darkness. Nothing! Suddenly, the Nothingness began to separate into shapes and forms. I was witnessing (creating, imagining?) Creation. What was assembling before me was a scene separated from me by a Great Abyss (the vast 93 million mile space that separates the Sun from the Earth). Across that Abyss was a Mountain (Earth) and a Sea (infinite space) off in the distance. On that Mountain, seated on a Rock, in the nearly identical pose of Rodin's "The Thinker," was a God-like Bearded Man of unimaginable anatomical perfection in Left Profile (the Sun was looking in a Mirror, i.e., Reality was observing it's Virtual Image). Nothing seemed real; the perfectly round Disc (Moon) in the "Canvas" sky appeared stage-like as well (no radiance) (♫"It's only a Paper Moon hanging over a Cardboard Sea"♪). I was observing all this as a Being of Pure Consciousness; the Life observing the Clay, as it were. The thoughts of the Man on the Mountain were my thoughts. He ("I") was asking him ("My") self the Eternal Questions. "I" the Observer, the Man the Observed, yet One and the same. He never looked toward me. It was "I" who was aware of him, he unaware of me. He stood up, walked toward the Peak of the Mountain, his back towards me. He walked around, then down, the right (East) side of the Mountain and disappeared from my view." (This is a metaphor for the Earth's rotation.) Because the Sun does not shine on the Dark Side it cannot see the Dark Side.

Although, at the time, I didn't understand the true meaning of the words of the song, "It's Only A Paper Moon," which defined my Experience; that we are created in the Image and Likeness of God, that is to say, His Virtual Image, His Avatar, I see now, as this song reveals, that

"It wouldn't be make-believe
If you believed in me."

It's Only A Paper Moon

It's only a paper moon
Hanging over a cardboard sea
But it wouldn't be make-believe
If you believed in me

It is only a canvas sky
Hanging over a muslin tree
But it wouldn't be make-believe
If you believed in me

Without your love
It's a honky-tonk parade
Without your love
It's a melody played at a penny arcade

It's a Barnum and Bailey world
Just as phony as it can be
But it wouldn't be make-believe
If you believed in me

THE PLAY'S THE THING: Presidential Elections by Steve Savage "King of the Beasts"

2008-08-28T08:41:00.015-04:00

MARC ANTONY DELIVERING CAESAR'S FUNERAL ORATION

Nothing is as it seems. All political candidates exist in the realm of virtual reality. They are mindless, walking, talking personifications of some nebulous collective that writes their speeches, applies their makeup, and directs their mannerisms that are to be seen by observers. Family members and carefully placed onlookers are coached into providing appropriate timed responses and facial expressions that are to be seen by the duped voting public audience, if they're really voting at all. Remember the Russian elections of the 1950s?

What we're all looking at is a play, titled False Dialectic, adapted from the original Fleece the Sheep where all the lines are scripted; all the actors pre-selected by a casting director, with trailers leaked to the media.

The financial backers of the show are mostly unknown to the audience and they choose to remain that way. (I find it interesting that financial backers are known in the entertainment industry as "Angels.") Their main objective is to divide the audience by making them think they are choosing a side, while in actuality, all the actors in the play belong to the same actors guild, the Council on Foreign Relations.

Even the polls are rigged to appear as though elections could go one way or the other. It's always a "Close Race," roughly 45% to 45% with 10% Undecided. The 10% is known as the vigorish, the cut that guarantees that the House always wins.

There are great leaders among us; however, we will never get to know who they are.

There will be no "Marc Antony" (leader) to descend from the pulpit to read Caesar's Will (America's Promise) to us as we stand around Caesar’s (America's) corpse.

As we look at the body that was once the America our forefathers established for us, where is the Antony to point out the wounds that "Brutus" and "Cassius" (Corporate Business and Traitors) inflicted? Where is the Antony to remind us how "Caesar" (America) loved even Brutus, and yet Brutus stabbed him viciously?

"For Brutus, as you know, was Caesar's angel.
Judge, O you gods, how dearly Caesar lov'd him!
This was the most unkindest cut of all;"

TAROT ARCHETYPES: The Fool's Journey; a Metaphor of My Passage Through Life by Steve Savage "King of the Beasts"

2008-08-19T09:16:00.042-04:00

The Fool's Journey

The Fool's Journey is a metaphor for the journey through life. Each major arcana card stands for a stage on that journey - an experience that a person must incorporate to realize his wholeness. These 22 descriptions are based on the keywords for each major arcana card. A card's number is in parentheses.

The Fool

We begin with the Fool (0), a card of beginnings. The Fool stands for each of us as we begin our journey of life. He is a fool because only a simple soul has the innocent faith to undertake such a journey with all its hazards and pain.

At the start of his trip, the Fool is a newborn - fresh, open and spontaneous. The figure on Card 0 has his arms flung wide, and his head held high. He is ready to embrace whatever comes his way, but he is also oblivious to the cliff edge he is about to cross. The Fool is unaware of the hardships he will face as he ventures out to learn the lessons of the world.

The Fool stands somewhat outside the rest of the major arcana. Zero is an unusual number. It rests in the exact middle of the number system - poised between the positive and negative. At birth, the Fool is set in the middle of his own individual universe. He is strangely empty (as is zero), but imbued with a desire to go forth and learn. This undertaking would seem to be folly, but is it?

The Magician and the High Priestess

On setting out, the Fool immediately encounters the Magician (1) and the High Priestess (2) - the great balancing forces that make up the perceived world. It is a feature of the material universe that as soon as we name some aspect of experience, we automatically evoke its opposite.

The Magician is the positive side. He represents the active, masculine power of creative impulse. He is also our conscious awareness. The Magician is the force that allows us to impact the world through a concentration of individual will and power. The High Priestess is the negative side. She is the mysterious unconscious. She provides the fertile ground in which creative events occur. The High Priestess is our unrealized potential waiting for an active principle to bring it to expression.

The terms positive and negative do not imply "good" and "bad." These are human distinctions that do not apply in the tarot. The Magician and the High Priestess are absolutely equal in value and importance. Each is necessary for balance. We may view the negative as our Shadow, but without shadows, we cannot see the light, and without a ground of potential, we cannot create.

The Empress

As he grows, the Fool becomes more and more aware of his surroundings. As with most babies, he first recognizes his Mother - the warm, loving woman who nourishes and cares for him. He also comes to know Mother Earth, who nurtures him in a larger sense.

The Empress (3) represents the world of nature and sensation. A baby delights in exploring everything he touches, tastes and smells. He cannot get enough of the sights and sounds that enchant his senses. It is natural to delight in the abundant goodness of Mother Earth who surrounds us with her support.

The Emperor

The next person the Fool encounters is the Father in the figure of the Emperor (4). He is the representative of structure and authority. As a baby leaves his mother's arms, he learns that there are patterns to his world. Objects respond in predictable ways that can be explored. The child experiences a new kind of pleasure that comes from discovering order.

The Fool also encounters rules. He learns that his will is not always paramount and there are certain behaviors necessary for his well-being. There are people in authority who will enforce such guidelines. These restrictions can be frustrating, but, through the patient direction of the Father, the Fool begins to understand their purpose.

The Hierophant

Eventually, the Fool ventures out of his home into the wider world. He is exposed to the beliefs and traditions of his culture and begins his formal education. The Hierophant (5) represents the organized belief systems that begin to surround and inform the growing child.

A Hierophant is someone who interprets arcane knowledge and mysteries. On Card 5 we see a religious figure blessing two acolytes. Perhaps he is inducting them into church membership. Although this image is religious, it is really a symbol for initiations of all kinds.

The child is trained in all the practices of his society and becomes part of a particular culture and worldview. He learns to identify with a group and discovers a sense of belonging. He enjoys learning the customs of his society and showing how well he can conform to them.

The Lovers

Eventually, the Fool faces two new challenges. He experiences the powerful urge for sexual union with another person. Before, he was mainly self-centered. Now he feels the balancing tendency, pictured in the Lovers (6), to reach out and become half of a loving partnership. He yearns for relationship.

The Fool also needs to decide upon his own beliefs. It is well enough to conform while he learns and grows, but at some point, he must determine his own values if he is to be true to himself. He must start to question received opinion.

The Chariot

By the time the Fool becomes an adult, he has a strong identity and a certain mastery over himself. Through discipline and will-power, he has developed an inner control which allows him to triumph over his environment.

The Chariot (7) represents the vigorous ego that is the Fool's crowning achievement so far. On Card 7, we see a proud, commanding figure riding victoriously through his world. He is in visible control of himself and all he surveys. For the moment, the Fool's assertive success is all he might wish, and he feels a certain self-satisfaction. His is the assured confidence of youth.

Strength

Over time, life presents the Fool with new challenges, some that cause suffering and disillusionment. He has many occasions to draw on the quality of Strength (8). He is pressed to develop his courage and resolve and find the heart to keep going despite setbacks.

The Fool also discovers the quiet attributes of patience and tolerance. He realizes the willful command of the Chariot must be tempered by kindliness and the softer power of a loving approach. At times, intense passions surface, just when the Fool thought he had everything, including himself, under control.

Hermit

Sooner or later, the Fool is led to ask himself the age-old question "Why?" He becomes absorbed with the search for answers, not from an idle curiosity, but out of a deeply felt need to find out why people live, if only to suffer and die. The Hermit (9) represents the need to find deeper truth.

The Fool begins to look inward, trying to understand his feelings and motivations. The sensual world holds less attraction for him, and he seeks moments of solitude away from the frantic activity of society. In time he may seek a teacher or guide who can give him advice and direction.

Wheel of Fortune

After much soul-searching, the Fool begins to see how everything connects. He has a vision of the world's wondrous design; its intricate patterns and cycles. The Wheel of Fortune (10) is a symbol of the mysterious universe whose parts work together in harmony. When the Fool glimpses the beauty and order of the world, if only briefly, he finds some of the answers he is seeking.

Sometimes his experiences seem to be the work of fate. A chance encounter or miraculous occurrence begins the process of change. The Fool may recognize his destiny in the sequence of events that led him to this turning point. Having been solitary, he feels ready for movement and action again. His perspective is wider, and he sees himself within the grander scheme of a universal plan. His sense of purpose is restored.

Justice

The Fool must now decide what this vision means to him personally. He looks back over his life to trace the cause and effect relationships that have brought him to this point. He takes responsibility for his past actions so he can make amends and ensure a more honest course for the future. The demands of Justice (11) must be served so that he can wipe the slate clean.

This is a time of decision for the Fool. He is making important choices. Will he remain true to his insights, or will he slip back into an easier, more unaware existence that closes off further growth?

Hanged Man

Undaunted, the Fool pushes on. He is determined to realize his vision, but he finds life is not so easily tamed. Sooner or later, he encounters his personal cross - an experience that seems too difficult to endure. This overwhelming challenge humbles him until he has no choice but to give up and let go.

At first, the Fool feels defeated and lost. He believes he has sacrificed everything, but from the depths he learns an amazing truth. He finds that when he relinquishes his struggle for control, everything begins to work as it should. By becoming open and vulnerable, the Fool discovers the miraculous support of his Inner Self. He learns to surrender to his experiences, rather than fighting them. He feels a surprising joy and begins to flow with life.

The Fool feels suspended in a timeless moment, free of urgency and pressure. In truth, his world has been turned upside-down. The Fool is the Hanged Man (12), apparently martyred, but actually serene and at peace.

Death

The Fool now begins to eliminate old habits and tired approaches. He cuts out nonessentials because he appreciates the basics of life. He goes through endings as he puts the outgrown aspects of his life behind him. He process may seem like dying because it is the death (13) of his familiar self to allow for the growth of a new one. At times this inexorable change seems to be crushing the Fool, but eventually he rises up to discover that death is not a permanent state. It is simply a transition to a new, more fulfilling way of life.

Temperance

Since embracing the Hermit, the Fool has swung wildly back and forth on an emotional pendulum. Now, he realizes the balancing stability of temperance (14). He discovers true poise and equilibrium. By experiencing the extremes, he has come to appreciate moderation. The Fool has combined all aspects of himself into a centered whole that glows with health and well-being. How graceful and soft is the angel on Card 14 compared to the powerful but rigid ruler in the Chariot (Card 7)? [Note] The Fool has come a long way in realizing the harmonious life.

Devil

The Fool has his health, peace of mind and a graceful composure. What more could he need? On everyday terms, not much, but the Fool is courageous and continues to pursue the deepest levels of his being. He soon comes face to face with the Devil (15).

The Devil is not an evil, sinister figure residing outside of us. He is the knot of ignorance and hopelessness lodged within each of us at some level. The seductive attractions of the material bind us so compellingly that we often do not even realize our slavery to them.

We live in a limited range of experience, unaware of the glorious world that is our true heritage. The couple on Card 15 are chained, but acquiescent. They could so easily free themselves, but they do not even apprehend their bondage. [Note] They look like the Lovers, but are unaware that their love is circumscribed within a narrow range. The price of this ignorance is an inner core of despair.

Tower

How can the Fool free himself from the Devil? Can he root out his influence? The Fool may only find release through the sudden change represented by the Tower (16). The Tower is the ego fortress each of us has built around his beautiful inner core. Gray, cold and rock-hard, this fortress seems to protect but is really a prison.

Sometimes only a monumental crisis can generate enough power to smash the walls of the Tower. On Card 16 we see an enlightening bolt striking this building. It has ejected the occupants who seem to be tumbling to their deaths. The crown indicates they were once proud rulers; now they are humbled by a force stronger than they.

The Fool may need such a severe shakeup if he is to free himself, but the resulting revelation makes the painful experience worthwhile. The dark despair is blasted away in an instant, and the light of truth is free to shine down.

Star

The Fool is suffused with a serene calm. The beautiful images on the Star (17) attest to this tranquility. The woman pictured on Card 17 is naked, her soul no longer hidden behind any disguise. Radiant stars shine in a cloudless sky serving as a beacon of hope and inspiration.

The Fool is blessed with a trust that completely replaces the negative energies of the Devil. His faith in himself and the future is restored. He is filled with joy and his one wish is to share it generously with the rest of the world. His heart is open, and his love pours out freely. This peace after the storm is a magical moment for the Fool.

Moon

What effect could spoil this perfect calm? Is there another challenge for the Fool? In fact, it is his bliss that makes him vulnerable to the illusions of the Moon (18). The Fool's joy is a feeling state. His positive emotions are not yet subject to mental clarity. In his dreamy condition, the Fool is susceptible to fantasy, distortion and a false picture of the truth.

The Moon stimulates the creative imagination. It opens the way for bizarre and beautiful thoughts to bubble up from the unconscious, but deep-seated fears and anxieties also arise. These experiences may cause the Fool to feel lost and bewildered.

Sun

It is the lucid clarity of the Sun (19) that directs the Fool's imagination. The Sun's illumination shines in all the hidden places. It dispels the clouds of confusion and fear. It enlightens, so the Fool both feels and understands the goodness of the world.

Now, he enjoys a vibrant energy and enthusiasm. The Star's openness has solidified into an expansive assurance. The Fool is the naked babe pictured on Card 19, riding out joyously to face a new day. No challenge is too daunting. The Fool feels a radiant vitality. He becomes involved in grand undertakings as he draws to himself everything he needs. He is able to realize his greatness.

Judgement

The Fool has been reborn. His false, ego-self has been shed, allowing his radiant, true self to manifest. He has discovered that joy, not fear, is at life's center.

The Fool feels absolved. He forgives himself and others, knowing that his real self is pure and good. He may regret past mistakes, but he knows they were due to his ignorance of his true nature. He feels cleansed and refreshed, ready to start anew.

It is time for the Fool to make a deeper Judgement (20) about his life. His own personal day of reckoning has arrived. Since he now sees himself truly, he can make the necessary decisions about the future. He can choose wisely which values to cherish, and which to discard.

The angel on Card 20 is the Fool's Higher Self calling him to rise up and fulfill his promise. He discovers his true vocation - his reason for entering this life. Doubts and hesitations vanish, and he is ready to follow his dream.

World

The Fool reenters the World (21), but this time with a more complete understanding. He has integrated all the disparate parts of himself and achieved wholeness. He has reached a new level of happiness and fulfillment.

The Fool experiences life as full and meaningful. The future is filled with infinite promise. In line with his personal calling, he becomes actively involved in the world. He renders service by sharing his unique gifts and talents and finds that he prospers at whatever he attempts. Because he acts from inner certainty, the whole world conspires to see that his efforts are rewarded. His accomplishments are many.

So the Fool's Journey was not so foolish after all. Through perseverance and honesty, he reestablished the spontaneous courage that first impelled him on his search for Self, but now he is fully aware of his place in the world. This cycle is over, but, the Fool will never stop growing. Soon he will be ready to begin a new journey that will lead him to ever greater levels of understanding.

THE PREDATOR WITHIN by Steve Savage "King of the Beasts"

2008-08-15T15:13:00.017-04:00

We are prisoners of a PREDATOR!

What follows is the gist of Dan Juan's Final Lesson, the revelation of the Ultimate Secret, to Carlos Castañeda.

Before the nagual, the Guardian Spirit of the Shaman Don Juan, entered into the Active Side of Infinity, he imparted a secret knowledge to his apprentice sorcerer, anthropologist Carlos Castañeda—a secret knowledge so horrifying that he could not reveal it until he, himself, was about to cross that threshold into the unknown.

"We are prisoners of a PREDATOR!"

This predator, which, of course, is an inorganic being, is not altogether invisible to us, as other inorganic beings are, I think as children we do see it and decide it's so horrific that we don't want to think about it.

The old shamans discovered that the entire universe is composed of twin forces, forces that are at the same time opposed and complementary to each other. It is inescapable that our world is a twin world. Its opposite and complementary world is one populated by beings that have awareness, but not an organism. For this reason, the old shamans called them inorganic beings.

If you pay close attention at night to the darkness of the foliage without focusing your eyes, but sort of look at it from the corner of your eye, you will see a fleeting shadow crossing your field of vision.

We have a predator that came from the depths of the cosmos and took over the rule of our lives. Human beings are its prisoners. The predator is our lord and master. It has rendered us docile, helpless. If we want to protest, it suppresses our protest. If we want to act independently, it demands that we don't do so.

There is an explanation for this which is the simplest explanation in the world. They took over because we are food for them, and they squeeze us mercilessly because we are their sustenance. Just as we rear chickens in chicken coops, the predators rear us in human coops. Therefore, their food is always available to them.

In order to keep us obedient and meek and weak, the predators engaged themselves in a stupendous maneuver — stupendous, of course, from the point of view of a fighting strategist. A horrendous maneuver from the point of view of those who suffer it. They gave us their mind! Do you hear me? The predators give us their mind, which becomes our mind.

Sorcerers see infant human beings as strange, luminous balls of energy, covered from the top to the bottom with a glowing coat, something like a plastic cover that is adjusted tightly over their cocoon of energy. That glowing coat of awareness is what the predators consume, and when a human being reaches adulthood, all that is left of that glowing coat of awareness is a narrow fringe that goes from the ground to the top of the toes. That fringe permits mankind to continue living, but only barely.

There's nothing that you and I can do about it.

What I'm saying is that what we have against us is not a simple predator. It is very smart, and organized. It follows a methodical system to render us useless. Man, the magical being that he is destined to be, is no longer magical. He's an average piece of meat. There are no more dreams for man but the dreams of an animal who is being raised to become a piece of meat: trite, conventional, imbecilic.

The predator is not something benevolent. It is enormously heavy, gross, indifferent. You can feel its disregard for us. Doubtless, it has crushed us ages ago, making us weak, vulnerable, and docile.

The Predator's mind will say to you that this is pure nonsense, and then the same mind will agree with its own proposition, "Yes, of course, it is nonsense," you will say. That's the way they overcome us.

We are energetic probes created by the universe, and it's because we are possessors of energy that has awareness that we are the means by which the universe becomes aware of itself. The predators are the implacable challengers.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY DAN

2008-08-12T10:15:00.010-04:00

HAPPY 28TH BIRTHDAY DAN.

Twenty-eight years old. What a wonderful age to be. In many ways I feel honored that God entrusted me, with my shit background, to be your Dad, and to make damned sure you didn't get any black marks on you.

Reviewing all your outstanding achievements and accomplishments, throughout your life, I can see in you the grade God has given me. You are proof that I made sure you got the very best teachers, in all things for you, especially in how to fight any kind of fight and how to win the fight every time.

When the other fathers conspired among themselves to "sic" their bully older teenage kids on you, when you were only 8 years old, they always did it in such a way that I could not interfere. That is why, to be fair, I would not let their fathers interfere when you started kicking the living shit out of their kids.

Let's face it, since they made the challenge, they could hardly beg their fathers to come to their rescue from you. Not with me around.

I have also seen you show mercy when you had your opponent in submission; like when you won the Junior Olympic Boxing Championship, for both New York and New Jersey, and when you saw that your opponent could not continue, you let him surrender, with honor, grateful for your compassion.

I wrote this some time back with you uppermost in my thoughts. What it lacks in poetic brilliance, I tried to say it "like it is."

The Fighting Man
by Dad

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 or 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.
--

With all my love,
Dad

THE FIFTH GOSPEL by Steve Savage "King of the Beasts"

2008-07-29T10:32:00.020-04:00

"I have seen slaves riding on horses and princes walking like slaves on the land." - Ecclesiastes 10:7

Several years have passed between my first and second readings of Carlos Castañeda's "The Active Side of Infinity."

Recapitulation, i.e., reviewing the significant events of my life, has brought me face to face with my "Usher," The Experience of August 1973, when the Ally/Companion/Parasite/Foreign Installation became self-aware and realized that it was he to whom the Man/Prisoner/Host prayed as his god.

["When Buddy dies, he hits the ground and rots. But where do I go? All these years he's been praying to me as his god. I'm the one who's been restraining him. If it weren't for me trying to remain hidden, he'd be the King of the Beasts in the Natural order of things."]

Cognizant that it was he who kept the Man from his rightful role in the natural order of things as King of the Beasts, out of love, he cut the Silver Cord that bound them together and the Freed Man, Steve Savage, was loosed among the Symbiotes.

His mortality gave him absolute power.

"'Nolo me Tangere' or I will destroy your abode and cast you out upon the 'Dark Sea' to wander upon the face of the earth forever as an Impotent Intangible." The foxes have holes; the birds have nests; but the Son of Man/Ally/Foreign Installation has no place to rest his head.

Thank you Carlos Castañeda (Aranha) for this most important work. The Bell of Truth rings in every man. To those for whom this bell tolls, listen and read THE ACTIVE SIDE OF INFINITY. Practice discipline and cast off your yokes.

Join me as a Warrior on the Path. Begin here:

"The Origin of Myth, Legend, and Religion"

THE "MOTHER" CHURCH by Steve Savage "King of the Beasts"

2008-07-19T13:26:00.013-04:00

THE REIMS CATHEDRAL, PICTURED HERE, IS A CLASSIC EXAMPLE OF THE FEMALE FORM IN GOTHIC ARCHITURE

All that exists is a metaphor of the first "Container-Contained" relationship; the "Ayn Soph" and the "Ayn" of "Ayn Soph Aur," the Male and Female Archetypes of the First Polarity, continuously manifesting themselves in ever increasing complexity in a myriad of forms, whose absolute value, while remaining constant, appears as something else in its Relative Manifestation.

By way of numerical example: 2/4, 4/8, 25/50, 40/80, 60/120, 500/1,000, 10,000/20,000, ad infinitum, all have the absolute value of "1/2," the perception of which is obfuscated by relative magnitude.

By abstraction, Man unconsciously creates his existence/environment in his own image and likeness. Sound familiar?

The Gothic Cathedral of Reims, pictured above, is a classic example of Man algebraically transmogrifying the Human Female Form of the equation into its Architectural Female Form.

LET'S ENTER THE CATHEDRAL

As we approach the Western Facade of the Church, picture the structure as a supine female, i.e., lying on her back in the position she would be in if receiving a pelvic examination. The Two Towers, then, from top down, would represent her knees and lower legs.

The center entranceway is an almost exact anatomical representation of the Vulva, including: Prepuce, Meatus Labium Majus, Labium Minus, Vestibule, and Vaginal Opening.

The "Vaginal Opening"/Doorway leads into the interior of the Church via the Nave, which is the analog of the Vagina itself.

As you approach the Altar, you can see that the Nave is constructed in the form of a Cross. The major transverse part of this body of the church crossing the Nave, at right angles, is called the Transept, the analog of the Fallopian Tubes. One side is called St. Mary's; the other is called St. Joseph's. Earlier churches required that girls would sit on St. Mary's side; boys would sit on St. Joseph's side. These are the analogs of the Ovaries. Before modern medicine, it was believed that one ovary produced female eggs, the other only male.

The Altar Railing, is the analog of the Cervix, both of which permit limited access to the Forbidden Zone, the Tabernacle/Uterus.

Crossing the Railing, entering the Forbidden Zone to the Altar, you encounter the Tabernacle, the Holy of Holies, the analog of the Uterus, the place where the Blessed Sacrament, the Holy Communion, the "Ovum," is kept.

The bringing of the Sacred Host to the Altar Railing by the Priest is the analog of Ovulation.

The word "Host" comes from the Latin "hostia," which means "victim" or "sacrificial animal."

The "Host" represents the "Body of Christ," but not His "Life." It is unleavened bread, which means no yeast, no life, no spirit, to raise it up. It is Dead. It is lifeless. So too, is the Water only Water before Christ makes it Wine, i.e., "Blood."

The Host, "matter," "mater," Mother," "Ovum," is not transubstantiated, i.e., "Fertilized," until it comes in contact with Jesus, the Male Principle.

That Male Principle is the Life within us. Who is Jesus? He's Us. It is we who animate the clay, move the dirt, give it substance and form.

Going to Church, the Divine Brothel, and receiving Holy Communion is metaphorical Copulation and Conception. So be sure to give generously when they pass the Basket.

THE RESURRECTION by Steve Savage "King of the Beasts"

2008-07-14T08:14:00.012-04:00

LA RESURREZIONE sculpted by Pericle Fazzini
(Click on the photo to see a larger version.)

This twenty-meter-wide brass and bronze sculpture behind the current Pope, Benedict XVI, is located in the Vatican's Paul VI Audience Hall which was completed in 1971.

The Official Vatican spin on this horrifyingly evil appearing sculpture, supposedly in the words of Fazzini, who is no longer among the living to confirm it, is that "Christ rises from this crater torn open by a nuclear bomb; an atrocious explosion, a vortex of violence and energy."

If this is, indeed, a modern depiction of the Resurrection of Christ, why then does it bear such a bizarre alien chthonic resemblance to a demonic, Satanic image?

Why is the word "Christ" noticeably absent from the name of the sculpture? Just who is it, really, that is shown being "Resurrected" here?

This is very reminiscent of both:

1. Scientology Doctrine:

"Seventy-five million years ago the emperor of the Galactic Federation, a despot named Xenu, solved overpopulation on his planet by freezing its inhabitants, shipping them to Earth in spacecraft resembling DC-8s, and dropped them into volcanoes in Hawaii and other places. He then detonated the volcanoes with atomic bombs and captured the suddenly-disembodied Thetans with an electronic device."

and, 2. The Book of Revelation, Chapter 20:

1 And I saw an angel come down from heaven, having the key of the bottomless pit and a great chain in his hand.

2 And he laid hold on the dragon, that old serpent, which is the Devil, and Satan, and bound him a thousand years,

3 And cast him into the bottomless pit, and shut him up, and set a seal upon him, that he should deceive the nations no more, till the thousand years should be fulfilled: and after that he must be loosed a little season.
-------------
7 And when the thousand years are expired, Satan shall be loosed out of his prison,

8 And shall go out to deceive the nations which are in the four quarters of the earth, Gog, and Magog, to gather them together to battle: the number of whom is as the sand of the sea.

Are we about to see the flip side of who it was that died for us, that put us forever in His debt?

A MAJOR CHANGE HAS TAKEN PLACE IN THE CATHOLIC CHURCH SINCE THE ASSASSINATION OF JOHN PAUL I, SEPTEMBER 28, 1978.

Click on this link below and read:

FALSE PRETENSES TO OBTAIN YOUR SOULS

MYSTERIOUS IMAGE DISCOVERED IN "MURDERED" POPE'S VIDEO by Steve Savage "King of the Beasts"

2008-07-12T11:50:00.012-04:00

Because the circumstances surrounding the death of Albino Luciani, Pope John Paul the First, are obscure, if not obfuscated, to say the least; and, because of an unexplained supernatural experience I had that connected me to this holy man, I continue to look for anything that will help me to understand why I have lived this mystical life.

Today, while reviewing the YouTube video, below, which I added to my Playlists sometime back, I discovered something so strange that I was moved to publish it here for you to see.

If anyone knows for certain what that image is, or has some idea of what it may be, please leave a comment.

Below the video are links to four related posts.

To see the image to which I am referring,

STOP THE VIDEO AT PRECISELY 00:58 SECONDS

The last days of Johannes Paulus I (Albino Luciani 1978)

"Pope John Paul I, Exiled to Anonymity" by Steve Savage

A certain smile, a certain face, can lead an unsuspecting heart on a merry chase

My Book Review of Lucien Gregoire's "Murder in the Vatican"

Below is the link to Amazon.com for those who wish to buy Lucien Gregoire's latest, updated 4th Edition. Here for the first time is the proof of how John Paul I, and those around him, fell victim to twentieth century capitalism as it was jointly embraced by the Vatican and the United States.

Murder in the Vatican: The Revolutionary Life of John Paul and The CIA, Opus Dei and the 1978 Murders

SPECIAL NOTE: click on "comments" and read the very interesting submission by Donald Lee Hardy.

"For Whom Does The Bell Toll?" by Steve Savage "King of the Beasts"

2008-06-24T11:54:00.013-04:00

I don't see too many "SUPPORT OUR TROOP" stickers anymore. They're not really selling, except mostly on-line, and then only families and friends of those serving are buying them—the Law of Supply and Demand at work. As far as American Flags go, "I mean fuggedaboutit." The neighborhood houses are all flying their Summer Solstice Flags now that we've gone past June 21st.

Then again, who among us will dare to peep through the Keyhole on the Door of Apathy we've erected, trying so desperately to insulate ourselves from the "Great War" and to block the "Great War's" view of us?

In my "Spiritual Experience" (for want of a better name) where I saw the maddening, horrific violence at the Experiential Boundary where "Infinite-Force Existence" and "Infinite-Resistance Existence" meet, i.e., where Immortality is locked in Eternal Conflict with Itself, I "felt-knew" that the further one is removed from the "Front Lines," so to speak, the more blissfully unaware one is of what it is that is actually maintaining the structure-function relationships we perceive as Reality.

We are unmindful of the Heroic Warrior Beings on either side of "The Clash of the Titans," who are as on conveyor belts moving toward a ravenous, insatiable, fiery, all-devouring Mouth that is the Furnace of Hell. That "Meeting Place," that "War Zone," is the Destiny that patiently awaits all of us.

We have become as corpses on a ghost ship, lulled into complacency and indifference by the tintinnabulation of the bells on some unknown distant shore. Our tranquil sailing upon the River of Time's Cool Waters will soon turn into a nightmarish, desperate "Shooting of Molten Lava Rapids," as we are rushed headlong toward the Falls of Annihilation.

As we near the Brink, we will find ourselves no longer asleep, but awakened as Warriors, because that faint "tintinnabulation" which delighted us so long ago, will reveal itself as the Clanging Bell of Hell inexorably calling us to fight for our Being.

"Therefore never send to know for whom the Bell
tolls; it tolls for thee."

LESSONS I LEARNED FROM MY FATHER: A Fathers Day Tribute To "Dad"

2008-06-15T00:01:00.070-04:00

"Tell us what lesson it is your father taught you that has influenced your life and helped you to become the man or woman you are today."

Steve Savage "King of the Beasts"
---------------------------------------

A SON'S TRIBUTE TO HIS FATHER, STEVE SAVAGE "KING OF THE BEASTS'
by your son, Dan

(I did this as a poem to honor the poet.)

The lessons you taught me are too numerous to mention
So I’ll start with a few that came to my attention

As a young boy I knew I had
The strongest, smartest, most handsome Dad

Who carried himself with dignity and pride
I was lucky to have as my coach and my guide

You made sure if I stumbled I got back up
Because in order to succeed you have to be tough

Strength and Intelligence, Wisdom and Courage
You always taught me the power of these words

You encouraged me to do my very best
In everything I do and nothing less

A supportive father in all that I did
It meant so much, especially as a kid

Thank you for being at every game
Even the practices cheering my name

I learned what it is to be a great man
By watching you write your daily plan

Praying to God for my actions each day
For Guidance and Understanding to show me the way

So that I could live an honorable life
Good to my children and kind to my wife

Now I can see what I have become
Because the son is in the father, and the father in the son

When I am a Father I hope I can be
As great a Dad as you are to me

The greatest Father a son could have
Thank you so much, I love you Dad

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MY FATHER
by Jaci Anton

YOUR LOVE HAS TAUGHT ME RESPECT AND STRENGTH FROM ALL YOU'VE HAD TO GIVE;

YOUR LESSONS OF LIFE AND DAILY STRUGGLES HAVE TAUGHT ME HOW TO LIVE.

YOU'VE BORNE SO MUCH THROUGHOUT THE YEARS AND STILL YOU STAND YOUR GROUND;

THROUGH MY TIMES OF NEED I AM THANKFUL JUST TO HAVE YOU AROUND.

YOU'VE SHOWN ME HOW TO DEAL THE CARDS WHEN LIFE PUTS ME TO THE TEST,

AND ALWAYS KEEP MY HEAD UP HIGH AND NOT SETTLE FOR SECOND BEST.

THE YEARS HAVE MADE ME INTO WHO I AM TODAY,

I THANK YOU FOR THE LOVE YOU GAVE AND HELPED TO LEAD THE WAY.

I WISH YOU ALL THE LOVE MY HEART CAN HOLD,

BEYOND THE DAYS WHEN I, TOO, GROW OLD.

HAPPY FATHERS DAY TO MY FATHER, DONALD G. ANTON.

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MY FATHER
by Matt Anton

My Dad taught me the powerful lesson of not letting others influence your life.

----------------------------------------------------

MY FATHER
by April Doring

My father; Walter R. Winston served in the United States Army for twenty one years. Throughout his service he accomplished great feats and endured many experiences.
Walter R. Winston was living in Syracuse, NY at the age of eighteen, before he entered the United States Army in 1949. Unlike in today’s military, he didn’t have his GED until after he was signed up into the Army. Winston went to basic training at Fort Knox in Kentucky. During the Korean War; Walter volunteered to go over to Korea twice, but his request was never accepted. Instead; in 1950 they sent him over to Germany, where they were still recovering from World War II. Walter was assigned to a post at the iron curtain; which he had to patrol. While patrolling, the first people to crash through the iron curtain came through. They took these people to their post where they stayed, soon more people came through. After a while Walter and his fleet couldn’t even eat at their own mess hall because of all the people who came through the iron curtain. For his first four years in the military he was in Germany. In 1953, his father was pressuring him to get out of the military and come and work with him and his company. He got out of the Army for one year to work with his father; painting. In 1954 he re-enlisted back in to the Army and was sent to Iceland, but not before he met my mother, Yvonne. Yvonne and Walter didn’t marry until 1956; after his year tour in Iceland. When he returned to the states to marry Yvonne, he got assigned to Fort Dix as a drill inductor for the basic military training. During his time as a drill instructor in 1957, Yvonne had their first child - me. He was an instructor for one year, and then re-enlisted out of the infantry and into electronics. He was sent to Fort Monmouth for electronic school for nine months. He graduated top in his class and they gave him his first choice of station; Fort Devens, Massachusetts. Unfortunately, they couldn’t use him in Massachusetts so he was sent up to Loring Air Force Base in Maine. While in Maine; Walter and Yvonne had their first son in 1960. After their son was born they left Maine and went to Fort Heath, Massachusetts, and stayed there for four years. Then in 1964 the whole family went to Germany; where it was more restored at this time. They stayed in Germany for two years, and in 1966 they went back to Fort Monmouth. Walter was assigned as an instructor for the basics of electronics. He developed a program and put the lessons on IBM cards that were then inserted into computers. By developing this, students were able to come in and learn the lessons on the computer. In 1971 Walter retired and then joined the post office for twenty two years. He is now officially retired and resides in Neptune, New Jersey.

The story of my father’s time line through his military career is both interesting and intriguing to me. My father has accomplished a lot in his life, and during an important time in history. The two most important tasks were the patrolling of the iron curtain and the development of his program on the computers. Not every one in the military gets to witness people crashing through a wall built by the government.

--------------------------------------

MY FATHER
by Hank Fey

I guess the greatest thing I learned from my father, Henry Fey, Sr., was how to be a decent person and being able to make friends easily. Something he could not do. He was an extremely intelligent man who gave his knowledge out in little pieces as though he was giving away his life. I learned most of what I wound of doing for a living in the basement of our west Philadelphia row house. Watching him make toy trains out of tin cans or building radios and playing with his lathe when he was not there. Most jobs around the house he would start, than become supervisor as he showed me how to put down a porch floor or thread some pipe. I guess I will never forget how great the anticipation of setting up the Christmas tree and trains were every year. Something everyone in our family still does. As I look back now I learned a hell of a lot more than I thought I did, My father passed away just after I got out of the service a time when we were just getting to really know each other.He had to be doing something right to raise four kids who all turned out to go on to good careers and have children who turned out fine and have his very creative mind right down though the great grand children.

-----------------------------------

MY FATHER
by Joe Gillam

My Dad was a storybook guy. A WW II vet who went back to college after the war. Supported us and put himself through The Ohio State University School of Vet Med by cutting wheat in the west in the summer. He took his mustering out money and bought a couple of trucks and combines and headed west. He got school permission to be back late for the fall quarter so he could finish the season.

He would start in Texas, then follow the harvest north all the way to Canada. His half way point would be Cheyenne, WY. He plotted his route so he would be there for the big rodeo, "Cheyenne Days". And, to tighten up his purse a bit he did calf roping and bronco busting. Always walking away with some prize money.

He graduated, but never practiced Vet Medicine a day in his life. His love was farming. He took his funds, and along with the help of both of my grandfathers he bought a farm.

We grew up on the farm in a small Ohio farm community. Didn't even have keys to the house in those days. Old skeleton key locks and the keys had been gone for many years.

He was 5-09 but tough as nails. In those days we had house to house deliveries. The laundry man, about 6-04, got out of line one day with my mother. Dad told him to leave and the fool drew back for a swing. When Dad was done with him we carried him to his laundry truck, threw him in, and it sat there for over an hour until he came to.

The big event in those days was high school basket ball. My Dad had been on the state champ team in school but was too short for OSU. We would go to the games and as the teams warmed up us kids would hang around the foul lines waiting to catch a ball and throw it back when the team was warming up. Dad hollered to me from his bleacher seat about 10 rows up to throw him the next ball I caught. I tossed it up to him and he did a swish shot from a good sixty feet. My hero.

We were looking at some cattle to buy one time and a steer broke and across the field. Dad jumped on some guys horse, chased the steer and jumped and wrestled it to the ground. Just for the hell of it!

He taught me to drive, balance a check book, do math, read and work on the farm. We didn't have three cross words in our whole life

I still don't know if he was my Dad or my partner. I think of him every day, and father's day is so special to me. Not for what my kids do for me, but I will take a long walk alone and relive those years when I was Oh So Lucky.

Thanks for letting me live it again............Joe

----------------------------------------------------------

MY FATHER
by John Gonzales

I wish I could send something, but in all actuality I'm like many of the others whose fathers were non-existent. In all my life I lived with my father for 5-6 years. Even as an adult I tried to learn something from him but found that he was a self centered person who only thought of himself. His sole words of encouragement that I can ever recall were, "You're young, good looking, born here, speak English, you have it made." So he was never someone who I could look up to.

Like many others I took the experience of not have a positive role model to become a good, proud father to my own kids in spite of what I lacked as a child. I take the time to talk to my son and daughter, tell them I love them and to let them know that I may not be perfect but I will always be at their side. I've often thought of influential people in my life and I can honestly say that no one person stands out. I've been an observer to see the type of behavior I would want to emulate. Fortunately I've observed good examples that I was able to learn from, and the bad examples that I had the foresight to discard.

That is a good way of looking at things and it lends to my own philosophy of learning from others mistakes. That was the lesson that I did learn from my father, to be the best father as humanely possible to my own children. You're right, I didn't say hate, because I don't hate him. Hate is too strong an emotion to toss around carelessly. That is one emotion that only serves to destroy oneself and those that should be truly loved. In spite of everything, a person has to look at themselves and ask, "what difference can I make in this world and with the ones I love.

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MY FATHER
by Don Hardy

My Dad passed away in 2000. I'd like here to relate a few of the ways he not only influenced me but also everyone who knew him.

Robert Dale Hardy grew up in Cheyenne, Wyoming but migrated to the Rio Grande Valley of Texas when he graduated from High School. Shortly after arriving he managed to find a job as a ditch digger with the Power Company. He was soon promoted to apprentice lineman but was unable to go further as he was drafted for WWII. He met my Mother around this time and they were wed before he left for the Army.
Dad spent a short time in the Infantry and then was accepted to OCS. He spent time in the China Burma India area and rose to the rank of Captain. By 1944 he was back in the U.S. and assigned to the Signal Corps School at Fort Monmouth, N.J. I was born while he was there. (Twenty Eight years later I was also assigned to the 241st MP Company at Fort Monmouth as a Staff Sergeant)

My earliest memories were of him after he was discharged and back working for the power company. During the war, the power company was unable to get material so in the early '50s they went into a total rebuild mode, tearing out all the old poles and cross arms, etc. He made a deal to get several loads of poles and cross arms dropped on an acre of land he bought and from them he built our house. His normal day was up before the sun, walk to work, climb poles all day then come home, eat, pick up his hand tools and lantern and walk to the house. He built that house by himself with hand tools. The poles and cross arms were cut with a cross cut saw. He'd do this every day, six days a week and would have worked on Sunday if Mother hadn't objected. He was in a hurry because he was certain that he'd be recalled for Korea because among other things he was a Chinese linguist. He wanted Mother and I to have a house to live in if he had to go.

When I was about ten or so, the men in town decided to build a little league ball park. One fine Saturday morning we drove in his pickup over to the site and found several young engineers from the power company and Highway Department, all wearing white shirts and ties, sitting on the partially constructed bleachers with slide rules out plotting how to stake the fence. The fence was to be built in an arc, 400' from home plate. Dad got out of his pickup, looked at the suits with disgust and grabbed a steel stake, eight foot two by four and a coil of wire plus a bundle of wooden stakes and mallet. He then proceeded to drive the steel stake in the center of home plate and tied the end of the wire coil there. He'd measured out the wire so we uncoiled it out to 400' and using it as a huge compass began to drive stake at eight foot intervals along the proposed fence line using the two by four as a spacer guide. It took us less than an hour to finish and as we walked back towards the suits one of them said, "Oh, Bob! Here's the plan for where to stake the fence." He said he'd already taken care of that chore and suggested that they go dig post holes. Of course they all figured out somewhere they needed to be out of the sun and we dug two foot holes and set 4X4s all day. Dad went on to become an electrical engineer by taking ICS courses and sitting for the state board exam. He stayed with the power company for 40 years retiring as Distribution Superintendent for the Laredo, Texas District an area about the size of Oklahoma.

Throughout his life he continued to amaze me with his grit and intellect and I learned many, many life lessons from him.

In 1996 he was diagnosed with a form of fatal cancer and they told him they could keep him alive for a year or so with chemo treatments. (He actually made four more years) He drove home and started work on a three room addition to his house in San Antonio. The chemo made him feel like he had the flu for ten days out of each month and he had very little energy but he got a lawn chair and set in the middle of his last project. He only felt like working about ten or fifteen minutes out of each hour but he use the rest of the hour trying to figure out how to make his work minutes more effective. I offered to help but he wouldn't hear it. He said the project was keeping him alive and in fact died within a year after he finished.
I couldn' figure out how to fit this in but still wanted to tell the story. In '67 I was an MP Platoon Sergeant in Asmara, Ethiopia. My platoon was alerted that we needed to prepare to go to Aden to assist the American Embassy folks evacuate. This was about the time of the Seven Days War and we evidently were the nearest troops with a Combat MOS.

In the midst of packing our combat gear and loading magazines for our weapons mail call came. To my surprise I got a letter from him. I'd been in the Army for a while then and never received a letter from him. It just wasn't his way. I knew nothing was wrong as back then you got bad new from the Red Cross so I wondered what the hell was going on. When I got the letter opened out came a note in his scrawl, "Boy, get yourself circumcized, they are heading your way".
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MY FATHER
by Steve Savage "King of the Beasts"

There is no Birth Record of my Father, DAKOTA JIM. At the age of one year, in 1912, He was abducted from His Father by His Mother. He was then abandoned by her in Hill City, South Dakota, in the Heart of the Black Hills (Paha Sapa); the Mystical Badlands of the Great Oglala Lakota Sioux Indian Nation, to someone my Father referred to only as "Uncle Harry."

Although He was of Welsh-English descent, it was here, in the sacred tribal lands of the Black Hills, that He was initiated in the Ancient Ways of the great Lakota Sioux Warriors whose ancestors include the Legendary Warrior Chiefs: Sitting Bull (Tatanka Iyotake), Red Cloud (Makhpiya Luta), and Crazy Horse (T‘ašunka Witko).

The middle initial "F" in His name stands for "Frieborn," but it could just as well have stood for "Fear," because he was Fear incarnated as a Man. He had a Fierce Countenance, a powerful arresting stare, that caused whomever it was that fell into his gaze, to cringe in submission like a dog before an Alpha Wolf.

The whole house would shake from his presence whenever he entered it. I, and whoever it was who was there with me, at the time, shook in resonance along with everything else around us that cowered before Him, not daring to look up at Him lest, God forbid, our eyes should meet.

No one ever dared to challenge Him or disrespect Him in any way. He was a Dangerous Man; a Living Cage of Flesh and Bone whose Prisoner was a barely restrained Ferocious Beast, the Spirit of the Great Wolf. Everyone knew it was there, but it was revealed to no one but me. He did not like to be touched, and especially would not allow anyone to put their hands on Him with intentions to do harm. If anyone dared to do so, I don't believe He would have allowed that Disrespecter to live — knowing my Father as I do.

He was the Strongest, most Intelligent, Moral, Principled Man of anyone I've ever known. He was the Unwritten Law.

He loved my Mother and was faithful to her.

The last enemy on the Path of the Warrior is Aging; the unyielding, unrelenting desire to quit, to give up. In its War of Attrition against the Warrior, it tragically robs Him of His Substance, His Dignity, His Grace, His Power, His Magnificent Presence, until only the virtual image of who He was remains as a projection of His Self Remembrance.

I visited Him in the hospital the night He died, in 1981, the last of our family to see Him conscious. He was 69 years old. It was late and the last train was to leave at midnight. When I told Him I had to leave, to go home to Anna and Danny, and that if I miss the train, the next one wouldn't be until morning, He said to me, "You can go now. You've done your duty."

I don't know why I was unable to accept the Final Scene that was being played out before me or why I insisted to Him, as I prepared to leave, that it was not a "duty;" that I was there because He was my Father and wanted to be there with Him.

Before leaving, I told Him I loved Him, words that I had somehow, in recent years, summoned the courage to begin saying to Him, kissed His forehead, and left.

He must have known that His time was at hand and didn't want to openly ask me to stay; though I see now, through today's eyes, that was the choice He hoped I would make - the choice I so regret for not having made.

That decision to leave weighs very heavily upon me to this day.

He lost consciousness soon after I left that night; His body kept alive, His Spirit shackled, by a life support system that fought to keep Him in His Past. I was alone in the room with Him before they removed the respirator. Because hearing is the last sense to leave the Body, I bent down, kissed His forehead, and whispered in His ear that if He wanted to continue to live within me or my sons, he could — and He does.

I was unable to stem my flow of tears at His wake because that Chief of Chiefs, who was my Father, who taught me the Master Lesson, solely by His Example, had died. I was now the senior male of our kind.

That Master Lesson I learned is:

"Honor thy Father in all thy ways; remember Him before the silver cord is broken and the golden bowl is crushed, the pitcher by the well is shattered and the wheel at the cistern is crushed."

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MY SIX FATHERS
by Roger Whiles

June 24, this year I will be sixty-one years old, older and wiser than when I came into this world. My father was fifty years old and my mother was forty-one the year I was born and by then they had moved the family to Cincinnati. The family consisted of my four older sisters, who were all married except one, when I appeared on the scene. Mom and Dad were from a spot in south central Kentucky called Bethel Ridge. Not long after I was born my Dad slipped on some ice while carrying me into the house. Turns out this was the start of his fight with multiple myeloma, or bone cancer as it’s more commonly known. Dad fought this battle until I was in my sixth year. He was in and out of the hospital, going here and there for treatments and doing his job as a life insurance salesman. Dad was also part of a gospel quartet that sang at our church each Sunday and also on the radio each week. He kept me by his side as much as possible; always introducing me to everyone he met. Then that day came in 1954, when my oldest sister tenderly took me in her arms and told me that our Dad would not be coming home. He was now in a place of no sorrow or pain, he is with God. When I was in my late thirties one of the elderly ladies of the church told me that she remembered listening to my Dad sing on the radio. What a blessing that was thirty years after his death. Don’t feel sorry for me, because I have been blessed with five other men that included me in their families.

There was the gentle giant, as I like to call him, Thomas Ranshaw. A Marine who saw battle in the pacific during the big war, he could make you shake in your boots with just his voice. Yet he had the gentleness to comfort a six year old boy that had a nightmare about his deceased father. He had the kindness to include me when he bought his two sons baseball gloves. He had the willingness to work with me and teach me how to throw a baseball. He also had the compassion to take me to church with him. By now I understood more and, as a result, accepted Jesus into my heart as my Savior. This giant went on to be with the Lord in 1980, but not until he touched many more souls through his Sunday school lessons and activities.

There was the business one, George Frentsos, who married my youngest sister shortly after our father passed. He was very different from the others; he had a college degree and was of Greek descent. What a different view he had of events. My mother and I lived with them in a duplex home for several years after Dad died. From him I learned the value of things, how to save money, and how to cut the grass of a big yard quickly, how to work. He took me to my first professional baseball game at the old Crosley Field. He went on to be with the Lord in 1989, leaving behind six great boys; I mean young men, some of who held world records in swimming.

There was the one I call the Good Samaritan, Jack Klette, who was married to my third sister. He came into my life as I was hitting my teens. It was a time when I needed to develop respect and character, which I was not doing, even as a saved individual. He was the voice of understanding and guidance that I needed. He taught me a trade, he showed me how to be understanding, and he taught me by example how to be a loving person. He taught me the game of golf and some day I will beat him. When he went on to be with the Lord in 1983, there were as many young people at his funeral as older because he was always willing to listen not only to his children and their peers, but to all of us.

This brings me to my only surviving brother-in-law, George Kessinger, the quiet one. He retired to Florida after driving Roadway trucks for twenty years in Ohio. He has led by example all of these years, as my other brother-in-laws have passed he has been there for support. When my “Good Samaritan,” Jack Klette, became ill with cancer George helped him get around and they became a golfing twosome to beat. When he retired they allowed my mother to move with them. When she passed he was there providing her care and attention. He taught me to shoot trap or skeet when I was a teenager. He, like my other brothers-in-law is a veteran, a man who in his late teens and/or early twenties served this country in a war for mankind. He continues to show me how to live my life on a daily basis.

There is one more father I must identify, a person that I have only known for my last thirty-seven years, my father-in-law, John Hood. He has taken me into his family, worked with me on home projects, and provided me with day-to-day advice. He has been with me at the birth of both my children, and helped me give my daughter away at her wedding. He has shown me how to garden and how to do house repairs.

So, you see I truly have been blessed by having the “fathers” that I have had. There is a little of each of these men in me and I’m proud of it. My biggest hope is that these men are as proud of me as I am of them. Yes, I would have loved to had more time with my father, but that is not the hand I was dealt. I believe that God dealt me a great hand, a hand that let me share in some great men’s lives.

It does take a family to raise a child and you my never know the impact that your actions will have. I believe that memories are made with actions, and without any action there will not be memories. Happy Fathers Day to all that read this, and God bless you.

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MY FATHER
by Bob Young

My Dad, Harold Young, was a farmer for most of his life and worked for Shell Oil repairing and installing service station equipment and bulk plants. Not a very big man in height, but a strong man anyway. He was a very gentle man who liked to play catch in the yard on a summer day to wind down. He worked hard all his life and had little to show for it other than our home which he paid off. Back in the fifties we went through the recession but he always provided for us.

One day when we were working together, he got to talking about someone who had cheated him on a job he had done for them. He wasn’t happy about it by any means, but took it rather stoically.

He told me to treat everyone as I would want them to treat me. To treat my elders with all the respect that an elder deserved. To treat a man with the respect I would want him to show me and to treat a lady like a lady. Of course he added, you would learn from this, not all elders were truly worthy of your respect, not all men were trustworthy, and not all ladies were really ladies. But, until you found out differently, you treated everyone, with the respect and kindness you yourself would want. And never blindly accept anyone just on first appearances.

He also told me it was not hard to be that type of person, but it was easier to fail to live up to be that person.

So all my life I have treated people like I would like to be treated until they gave me a reason to treat them otherwise or to be leery of them. As a cop of 34 years, I tried to up hold that and when I was a sergeant with the Sheriff’s Office I told the Deputies who worked for me that that was what I expected out of them.

I found I didn’t have to be condescending to others, just treat them like I would want to be treated by them. It has gotten me through all these years, and when I meet up with the Ould One soon, I want to tell him I remembered what he told me and did my best to live by it.

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Letters of Despair from American Families Who Suffer and Hunger in Cold Silence by Steve Savage "King of the Beasts"

2008-06-07T08:30:00.028-04:00

Since the current (Bush) Administration has been in office, 5 million Americans have slipped into poverty, 8 million have lost their health insurance and 3 million have lost their pensions. Yes, in the last seven years median household income for working-age Americans has declined by $2,500. Our country, for the first time since the Great Depression, now has a zero personal savings rate and, all across the nation, emergency food shelves are being flooded with working families whose inadequate wages prevent them from feeding their families.

In his concern for the collapse of the American middle class, and in order to try and break through the complacency and isolation inside the Washington Beltway, United States Senator, Bernie Sanders from Vermont, read e-mails he had received from throughout America on the floor of the Senate. They describe the decline of the American middle class from the perspective of those people who are living that decline.

They speak about families who, not long ago, thought they were economically secure, but now find themselves sinking into desperation and hopelessness. They tell the stories of working families unable to keep their homes warm in winter; workers worried about whether they’ll be able to fill their gas tank to get to their jobs; and seniors, who spent their entire lives working, now wondering how they’ll survive in old age. They describe the pain and disappointments that parents feel as they are unable to save money for their kids’ college education, and the dread of people who live without health insurance.

We have at times had to choose between baby food and heating fuel.

"We have two small children (a baby and a toddler) and felt fortunate to own our own house and land but due to the increasing fuel prices we have at times had to choose between baby food/diapers and heating fuel. We've run out of heating fuel three times so far and the baby has ended up in the hospital with pneumonia two of the times. We try to keep the kids warm with an electric space heater on those nights, but that just doesn't do the trick."

By February we ran out of wood and I burned my mother's dining room furniture.

"I am a single mother with a 9 year old boy. We lived this past winter without any heat at all. Fortunately someone gave me an old wood stove. I had to hook it up to an old/unused chimney we had in the kitchen. I couldn't even afford a chimney liner (the price of liners went up with the price of fuel). To stay warm at night my son and I would pull off all the pillows from the couch and pile them on the kitchen floor. I'd hang a blanket from the kitchen doorway and we'd sleep right there on the floor. By February we ran out of wood and I burned my mother's dining room furniture. I have no oil for hot water. We boil our water on the stove and pour it in the tub. I'd like to order one of your flags and hang it upside down at the capital building...we are certainly a country in distress."

We also only eat two meals a day to conserve.

"My husband and I are retired and 65. We would have liked to have worked longer but because of injuries caused at work and the closing of our factory to go to Canada, we chose to retire earlier. Now with oil prices the way they are we cannot afford to heat our home unless my husband cuts and splits wood, which is a real hardship as he has had his back fused and should not be working most of the day to keep up with the wood. Not only that he has to get up two or three times each night to keep the fire going. We only drive to get groceries or go to the doctor or to visit my mother in the nursing home three miles away. It now costs us $80.00 a month to go nowhere. I have Medicare but I can't afford prescription coverage unless I take my money out of an annuity, which is supposed to cover the house payment when my husband’s pension is gone. We also only eat two meals a day to conserve."

The pennies have all but dried up….Today I am sad, broken, and very discouraged.

"I, too, have been struggling to overcome the increasing costs of gas, heating oil, food, taxes, etc. I have to say that this is the toughest year, financially, that I have ever experienced in my 41 years on this earth. I have what used to be considered a decent job, I work hard, pinch my pennies, but the pennies have all but dried up. I am thankful that my employer understands that many of us cannot afford to drive to work 5 days a week. Instead, I work three 15 hour days. I have taken odd jobs to try to make ends meet. This winter, after keeping the heat just high enough to keep my pipes from bursting (the bedrooms are not heated and never got above 30 degrees) I began selling off my woodworking tools, snowblower, (pennies on the dollar) and furniture that had been handed down in my family from the early 1800s, just to keep the heat on. Today I am sad, broken, and very discouraged. I am thankful that the winter cold is behind us for a while, but now gas prices are rising yet again. I just can't keep up."

I don't go to church many Sundays, because the gasoline is too expensive to drive there.

"As a single parent, I am struggling everyday to put food on the table. Our clothes all come from thrift stores. I have a five-year-old car that needs work. My son is gifted and talented. I tried to sell my house to enroll him in a school that had curriculum available for his special needs. After two years on the market, my house never sold. The property taxes have nearly doubled in 10 years and the oil to heat it is prohibitive. To meet the needs of my son, I have left the house sit and moved into an apartment near his high school. I don't go to church many Sundays, because the gasoline is too expensive to drive there. Every thought of an activity is dependent on the cost. I can only purchase food from dented can stores… I am stretched to the breaking point with no help in sight."

At the rate we are going we will be destitute in just a few years.

"Due to illness my ability to work has been severely limited. I am making $10 an hour and if I am lucky I get 35 hours a week of work. At this time I am only getting 20 hours as it is "off season" in Stowe. It does not take a mathematician to do the figures. How are my wife and I supposed to live on a monthly take-home income of less than $800 dollars? We do it by spending our hard earned retirement savings. I am 50 and my wife is 49. At the rate we are going we will be destitute in just a few years. The situation is so dire that it is all I can think about. Soon I will have to start walking to work, an eight-mile round trip because the price of energy is so high it is that or go without heat. As bad as our situation is, I know many in worse shape. We try to donate food when we do our weekly shopping but now we are not able to even afford to help our neighbors eat. What has this country come to?"

I am just tired….I work 12 to 14 hours daily and it just doesn't help.

"I am 55 years old and worse off than my adult children. I have worked since age 16. I don't live from paycheck to paycheck, I live day to day. I can only afford to fill my gas tank on my payday thereafter, I put $5, $10 whatever that I can. I cannot afford to buy the food items that I would. I am riding around daily to and from work with a quarter of a tank of gas. This is very scary as I can see myself working until the day that I die. I do not have a savings, no credit cards and my only resources are thru my employment. I have to drive to work as there are no buses from my residence to work. I don't know how much longer I can do this…. I am concerned as gas prices climb daily. I am just tired, the harder that I work the harder it gets, I work 12 to 14 hours daily and it just doesn't help."

Some nights we eat cereal and toast for dinner because that's all I have.

"I am a working mother of two young children. I currently pay on average around $80.00 a week for gas so that I can go to work. I see the effects of the gas increase at the grocery stores and at the department stores. On average I spend around $150.00 per week at the grocery store and trust me when I say I don't buy prime rib- I buy just enough to get us through the week and I can't afford to make sure we have seven wholesome meals to eat every night of the week - some nights we eat cereal and toast for dinner because that's all I have. My family has had to cancel our annual trip to the zoo, and we make less trips to see our families in another town due to the increase of gas. The price of gas has created a hardship for most average Americans. We have less money to pay to living expenses which have also increased. It seems as if it's just a rippling effect. I am really scared of what the future holds for me and my kids because I just simply cannot afford to live from day to day. I am getting further and further in credit card debt just trying to stay afloat."

I am now living out of my car.

"As a student and a part time employee working for just above minimum wage I have found it more and more difficult to survive under these conditions. The drive to school and work require me to use roughly 30 percent of my paycheck just to go where I need to, to make it through my day. When school is in session I am lucky to get about 170 dollars a week and with gas prices at their current all time high I am continually finding myself under hardships because of it. Recently I had to vacate my apartment because I could not afford to pay rent and I am now living out of my car. This too seems like it may not be able to last that much longerbecause I am encountering difficulties in making my car payment. I can remember when gas prices were a little over a dollar and I dream about life taking that turn once more. Because of the gas prices I have found nothing but an extremely low budget for food, I was forced out of my home and now I might lose the one thing that is allowing me to continue my schooling and keep going to work – my car. I am struggling to understand why prices continue to rise and I see no end in sight."

My mortgage is behind, we are at risk for foreclosure, and I can't keep up with my car payments.

"I am a 31 year old wife, mother of two. How has this affected me? My husband drives 35 miles to work, that is a one-way trip. He is putting an average of $80 a week into his gas tank. No, he doesn't drive an SUV or a half-ton work truck. It's a small pickup truck that he needs as he builds houses. The kicker is that he never puts more than half a tank in, because we can't afford to fill it. I drive 15 miles one way, and put about $40 a week into my 30-miles-to-the-gallon car. Again, I never fill the tank - ever! We have even contemplated having my husband quit his job because he isn't making much more money weekly than he spends on gas! We could move to an area that is closer to our jobs, but because of the market, we cannot sell our house fast enough, or for a fair price. Meanwhile, my mortgage is behind, we are at risk for foreclosure, and I can't keep up with my car payments. My parents, both in their 60's, are back to work so that they can make ends meet, and struggle to come up with enough gas money so they can get to doctor's appointments. They are opting to close their house up for the winter, and stay with my uncle so they don't have to put oil in their furnace. I can't tell you how many times we had to fill our little gas tanks with kerosene or diesel because we ran out of oil and couldn't afford the $380 it would cost us to put a mere 100 gallons in. Needless to say, we are way behind on all of our bills, we are still playing catch up with our winter expenses. People that I know that have never struggled with money, are now frequenting our local food shelf so they can feed their families staple foods!"

We are barely staying afloat.

"My family has been hit so hard by this economy, we are barely staying afloat. We have remortgaged the house 4 times in the last three years to pay credit card debt. Now we are trying to tap into our annuity to pay more credit card debt. The debts on the credit cards are all for bills. Mostly grocery, oil and the mere cost of living. My husband is a union carpenter and they just changed our fantastic insurance plan to a terrible one with barely any coverage. I have none of my doctors on it and I suffer from painful nerve damage. I am not eligible for social security disability and I am unable to work. We had a dream to own our own home, and that dream came true seven years ago. I am afraid our dream is slipping through our fingers and it won’t be long before we lose our home, the way things are going."

Does anybody have a solution? Does anybody in Washington care?

"We are retired, 70 and 65 and living on Social Security and some savings. We use wood to offset the price of being warm. Our last oil fill up was nearly $700. How can we continue to make ends meet? My gasoline cost $239 last month. Food and everything else we buy is going up every week because of gouging from oil companies. We are worried about the national debt and the trade deficit. What can be done to bring them down? Does anybody have a solution? Does anybody in Washington care?"

Memorial Day Tribute 2008

2008-05-22T08:08:00.007-04:00

After only four days into his first tour of duty in Iraq, on Valentine's Day 2005, young 1LT Daniel Burch Anton, an Army Ranger Platoon Leader, witnessed the death of his closest friend, SFC Dave Salie, a legendary Army Ranger. As Dave's Commanding Officer, it became incumbent upon Dan, who was, himself, only 24 years of age, to deliver Dave's eulogy before the 17, 18, and 19 year old kids of his command.

Operation Iraqi Freedom suddenly became a nightmarish reality, a war with heart-wrenching consequences. Baptized in Grief, all the boys of Bayonet 2-69 became men the day Dave Salie died. In that day; they became "Warriors."

Four months later, in June 2005, Dan was called upon to deliver another difficult eulogy. The day before Fathers Day, he had lost another of his closest friends, 23 years old 2LT Noah Harris, a Georgia "Bulldog," a scholar, All-State Wrestler and Football Player, whose achievements and accomplishments had him on the fast track to becoming, one day, Governor of the State of Georgia - perhaps beyond.

Both euolgies are reproduced here to honor these beautiful boys this Memorial Day—two of our Sons of America who marched so bravely, so trustingly, into the "Valley of the Shadow of Death."

Steve Savage "King of the Beasts"
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Eulogy for SFC David J. Salie
by 1LT Dan Anton, 22 Feb 05

SFC David J. Salie was killed by an IED, Improvised Explosive Device, Valentine's Day, February 14, 2005, Baqubah, Iraq.

"I’d like to read to you a quote by Samuel Johnson: 'It matters not how a man dies, but how he lives. The act of dying is not of importance, it lasts so short a time.'

Anyone who has ever met Sergeant Salie could immediately tell what a great American and strong leader he was. His physical demeanor was only dwarfed by his Warrior spirit. When I first met Sergeant Salie I had no idea he was going to be my Platoon Sergeant. We were a brand new company at the time just trying to get off the ground. When the two of us were eventually paired up I only hoped that we could establish a solid, professional relationship. What I found, however, was more than just any platoon sergeant. He was a professional, a mentor, a confidante, and a friend.

The two of us would often talk in our office…or his office as he liked to point out to me. 'Platoon Leader’s don’t have offices, you’re just renting here.' he would say. It was during these talks that I realized Sergeant Salie’s heart was even bigger than he was. He spoke quite often of his wife and kids and it was very obvious what a great husband and loving father he was.

He also spoke of his experiences from prior deployments and there was no other choice but to admire him for the type of person he was. Sergeant Salie had the role of a family man and the spirit of a true patriot. He embodied what the Warrior Ethos truly means. Serving our great country is what he loved to do. If there was ever a mission where he had to stay back he would always try to find a way to come along.

It wasn’t long ago that Sergeant Salie kept asking me about being able to get out and do some combat patrols. He never liked it when he had to stay behind. On one of the patrols that only I was going on he said, 'If you can’t take me as a platoon sergeant what if I’m your RTO?' (Radio Telephone Operator)

Sergeant Salie loved being in the fight and there was no one better for the job. He was truly a soldier of God fighting the good fight.

Many things entered my mind after seeing what happened to Sergeant Salie on that fateful day, but one thought that stuck out was the thought of how I was going to fight this fight without him here by my side and how would his family get along without him? It wasn’t ‘till later that I realized I wouldn’t be fighting it without him because I know he’ll be watching over us just as he’ll be watching over his family.

I’m sure right now he’s getting tired of watching and he’s bugging God to let him come back here so he can get back in the fight which he loved so much.
God bless you Sergeant Salie and God Bless your family. We’re all going to miss you."

Eulogy for 2LT Noah Harris
By 1LT Daniel B. Anton, 25 June 05

2LT Noah Harris was killed by an RPG, Rocket Propelled Grenade, June 18, 2005, Baqubah, Iraq.

"Anyone who knew Lieutenant Harris would tell you that he had an addictive personality. He was the type of guy who could walk into a room not knowing anyone and come out being everyone’s friend. He was more than just a friendly guy, though. He was also dedicated in everything that he did. He was dedicated to his profession, the mission, his family and friends, and to his men.

I remember back to when Noah first came to 2-69. The other Lieutenants in the Company commented that it would be funny if he ended up coming to Bayonet so that he could give me some competition in the gym. They would kid with me about that constantly until I think I almost started to not like Noah before I even met him.

Eventually Noah did end up coming to Bayonet Company and we were lucky to have him. What I found in Noah was more than just a fellow Lieutenant or a gym partner. He was a true friend, whose ideals and morals were in line with my own. We bonded instantly and became close friends. We shared many good times together. I always remember being in a good mood when he was around. He seemed to have that effect on everyone around him.

Noah came from a very supportive and loving family, and I know that had a great influence on the man he was. He was the epitome of quiet professionalism; always being modest while possessing all the tools needed of a great leader. I know he conducted his personal life in the same way he did his professional life. He was always selfless and eager to help others. He was the first person who came to me after losing SFC David J. Salie and offered to be there if I ever wanted to talk. That was just the type of person Noah was.

When I first heard that Noah had passed I was overcome with anger. I couldn’t understand why someone with so much potential and youth was taken from us. I know he would have been great at whatever he wanted to do. His drive was limitless and his dedication was unmatched. That is why he was such a great Platoon Leader who always led from the front. He earned the respect of every single man in his platoon and they were willing to follow him anywhere.

I trust that in all things God has a plan, whether we understand that plan or not. I know that Noah Harris was doing something he truly believed in. He knew the risks of this profession and yet he remained intrepid in the face of danger.

It would be selfish of me to want Noah back here with us because I know he is in a better place. His spirit is still with us though, and he will be a guardian on our shoulders. Luckily, Lieutenant Harris will now have Sergeant Salie to keep him squared away.

Thank you Noah for being the great man that you were, and for being my friend. You will always be in my prayers. I will miss you Lieutenant Noah Harris, My Brother in Arms."

Prayers For Our Soldiers Still Fighting This War

Also, let us never forget the 50,000 Heroes whose names are carved upon The Wall in Washington, D.C. Please follow the link below:
50,000 Names Carved In The Wall

THE STRANGEST SECRET by Earl Nightingale Conant

2008-04-18T14:29:00.002-04:00

This 1956 recording of "The Strangest Secret" by the legendary Earl Nightingale Conant, is excerpted from his course "Lead The Field."

PHANTOM EDIFICE SYNDROME by Steve Savage "King of the Beasts"

2008-03-09T12:28:00.012-04:00

VIEW OF WORLD TRADE CENTER ESCALATORS AND STAIRS

John Hathaway of Clark, NJ, a member of our Army Security Agency Kagnew Station Guard Group, recently posted photos he had taken at Ground Zero, site of the 9-11 World Trade Center Disaster.

Viewing John's Ground Zero Photos has triggered a nostalgia within me that's been buried for more than 20 years. Seeing those photos, and the noticeable absence of what had been a major part of my life for so many years, has made me realize that I'm suffering from repressed "Phantom Edifice Syndrome."

I lived in Jersey City, NJ, from Christmas Eve 1982 until August 1988. From the window of my third floor apartment, I had a direct, uninterrupted view of World Trade Center One where it majestically dominated the New York City skyline. It was also my daily destination.

Each morning I would strap on a 40 pound backpack (my office in a bag), run one and one-half miles, dodging heavy morning traffic, to the Journal Square PATH train station to enter one of the commuter-jammed trains destined for the WTC subterranean grotto, seven stories below ground level.

The moment the train doors opened, like racetrack starting gates, tens of hundreds of us would stream out onto the Lower Level to race toward the steep-inclined escalators that would carry us seven stories up to the Main Concourse that appeared to be miles above us.

A few of us who had, by then, become familiar faces to one another, would opt to run up the stairs, two and three at a time, in a daily race whose sole prize was to be First to the Top of the Stairs.

The return home, at day's end, provided a much more formidable challenge. It was easier, by far, to run up seven stories of stairs than to run down them, especially when sprinting at top speed with a 40 pound backpack affecting my center of gravity and balance.

On this run, I had no challengers; I ran alone.

The World Trade Center was, for me, my personal playground, unlike any other. The excitement, exhiliration, and euphoria of that daily challenge, during that wonderful era of my life, remains with me to this day as kinesthetic memories that are indelibly etched within the essence of my being.

Hubris, We Thought You Were Our Friend?

2008-03-01T09:31:00.010-05:00

Col. Charles F. Hurlbut II (photo), is a former U.S. Army Security Agency Provost Marshal. He and his lovely wife, Ida, reside in Virginia in active retirement. From the vantage point of his distinguished career,and high-level duty assignments, which allowed him to observe, first-hand, the genesis of the myriad problems that beset America today, Col. Hurlbut speaks to us with the authority of one who has "been there, done that." - Steve Savage "King of the Beasts"
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"My views as expressed here may not square with those of many of you, which is okay, for they may not be how many Americans see our country's situation today, but they honestly reflect my views at this time."

Chuck Hurlbut

Most people agree that America is in a terrible funk: our standing in the world is the lowest ever; the economy is tanking; governments, at all levels, seem incapable of effectively dealing with the challenges they face; the war in Iraq which most Americans do not support is costing us dearly in the lives of our young and billions of dollars of borrowed money; people, along with businesses and governments, are behaving irresponsibly by spending more money than they have; and rising energy prices conflict with our predisposition for gluttony. How can this all be? How is it that the most powerful and prosperous country ever on the face of earth can be confronted by such a perfect storm of adverse circumstances?

Can't we easily, with our extraordinary American know-how, overcome any obstacle in our path? After all, we are the country that invented powered flight,the atomic bomb, the microchip, the Internet, the hoola hoop and the drive-in root beer stand. We won World War II and then revitalized and resurrected Europe with the Marshall Plan. After the War, we refocused our energies and talents on improving the standard of living for all Americans, and when some Americans were left behind and didn't share in the prosperity we introduced Great Society programs to economically and educationally uplift them and bring them into society's mainstream. Aren't we, after all, the chosen ones like our politicians like to remind us? Why, then, are we beset with the problems we have today?

Prior to World War II, America wasn't the supremely confident nation that she became and remained until very recently. We thought it was entirely possible that the war might be lost and our way of life unalterably changed. We were not at all confident and didn't take success for granted. We, therefore, channeled our energies in a highly focused manner and worked as one to assure success and the preservation of our American way of life. However, our greatest accomplishment, winning the war, also placed us on the path that's led us to where we are today. Our success in World War II, that came at an enormous personal and economic price with over 400,000 Americans dead and millions of others wounded, led us to believe in our own invincibility and infallibility.

Each of the past three generations, following the one we call the "Greatest Generation," has become increasingly convinced of America's moral and spiritual superiority and rectitude. To be sure, there have always been the sane and wise among us who have counseled us against our imprudent and self destructive ways, but they've been relatively small in number and easily ignored and dismissed.

Ominous storm clouds first began to gather when we ignored the lessons of the Korean conflict. Limits to our military power became evident then, our perceived omnipotence constrained by the fact that we were not the only holders of the atomic trump card.

We continued our inclination to underestimate and under assess our adversary in the Vietnam war. We looked upon them as a nation of rice farmers and tree dwellers who would be awed by our superior power and intellect and would see the wisdom of following our guidance. Of course we subsequently learned the error of our thinking when the sons and daughters of those who escaped from Vietnam in 1975 and settled in the U.S. went on to become the valedictorians of their high school classes.

We learned the hard way that the North Vietnamese were a far more resourceful, resilient, capable and sophisticated foe than we had any idea. Their abilities to intercept, decode and then act upon our tactical and strategic communications always exceeded our assessment of them and left us astounded when we ultimately learned of their capabilities.

There are countless other examples of our exuberant hubris, but I think the point has been made.

The American public is only partly to blame for all the problems stemming from this affliction. Our political leaders, not many of distinction, have fostered and cultivated this mentality for decades, but those presently in power are the worst offenders.

It's easy for the privileged and comfortable to see themselves and the country as an island of paradise amongst an archipelago of barren waste. Unfortunately, their lack of intellect, judgment, and common sense, are driving this country at an increasing
speed over a cliff that is coming closer and closer.

Those of us who are fond of studying Abraham Lincoln yearn for the day when another leader of his caliber will step forth and lead us in a positive direction. It had best happen soon, for there's precious little time to waste.

DO WE MEET SOMEONE BECAUSE WE ARE DESTINED TO MEET? by Steve Savage "King of the Beasts"

2008-02-27T12:28:00.018-05:00

With our March 1 wedding anniversary rapidly approaching, last night I dreamt about the almost miraculous circumstances under which Anna and I first met, September 2, 1977, and how we both knew, in that instant, that we were somehow destined for one another. We have never been apart from that moment to this day. (Photo: 1977; Anna–age 25, me–age 40)

The 1987 movie "Made in Heaven" starring Timothy Hutton and Kelly McGillis is a romantic, occasionally funny, drama about two souls who consummate their marriage literally in "Heaven." Needless to say, Anna and I identify very strongly with this movie.

The Movie Plot Outline: Mike Shea, in his first life dies as a young man performing a heroic rescue. Shortly after arriving in "Heaven" he meets a new soul, Annie Packert, who has never lived on Earth before. The drama centers around their separation soon after being wedded and the burning question is whether they will reunite on Earth before time runs out or whether they are fated to eternal soul-searching.

The synchronicity, that is, the meaningful coincidence attending this, is that this morning I came across this series of questions below by Lalitha V. Raman which coincides precisely with the questions I pondered in my night's dream.

Exactly one year, to the day, and 3,500 miles apart, before Anna and I met, I wrote this, my very first poem, in a stream of consciousness: Click on "The Promise":

THE PROMISE through Steve Savage

Steve Savage "King of the Beasts"
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Do we Meet Someone Because we are Destined to Meet?
by lalitha v.raman, Feb 26, 2008

Are we constantly in search of that one person all through our life, till we meet and become instantly comfortable with him or her?

Do we meet a particular person because we are destined to meet?

Could this be because our need for that person at a particular point of time is so great that it drags us towards him or her?

Do we have God inside us, leading us safely towards or away from a particular person?

Do we call this an instinct, a guiding force or destiny?

Could this be our own decision, though unconsciously?

Or have we been made to realize that we are to meet a particular person on a particular day at a particular time and at a particular place!

What will happen if that person comes late and we had left by then?

Will there be another time and another place in which we shall meet that person in some way?

What will happen if we are unable to meet that person that time as well?

Will our opportunity towards meeting that particular person be gone forever?

Are we destined to meet the next person in the queue?

What are we supposed to do?

Does the searching for and the meeting itself create a comfort zone that determines our future relationship with him or her?

Could this be the fatality of being at the same place and at the same time that plays tricks on our minds?

What is the truth and where is the truth?

How do we recognize the particular person, who is meant to meet us from the rest of the others?

Is there some unseen hand that guides us in such a way that we bump into the right person, moving away from the wrong person?

What do we want to do with that person?

Do we want to spend our time with him or her and share our stories?

Do we want to share our life with him or her?

Do we want him or her to fulfill some of our needs and then move away from him or her?

Will that pave way for the next person in queue to identify us and get close to us?

Are we the one for whom the other person has been searching for all through his or her life?

Thinking of such things, it seems strange that we meet, we like, and we continue our friendship with some people.

Then again, we meet, we instantly dislike, or keep a safe distance away from, some other people all through our life!

We seem to have a mechanism through which our mind operates, identifying, analyzing and concluding on a person's qualifications to be with us or not to be with us!

HELLO by Lionel Richie

I’M GOING TO THE REUNION by Steve Savage "King of the Beasts"

2008-02-14T15:43:00.011-05:00

FRIENDS FOREVER: Mike Midgette; John Gonzalez; Eddie Kain; John Sullivan and Leroy Humphries April 2007 Kagnew Guard Group Reunion, Myrtle Beach, South Carolina

THE CLOCK OF LIFE
Anonymous

The clock of life is wound but once and no man has the power
To tell just when the hands will stop at late or early hour.
Now is the only time you own; live, love, toil with a will.
Place no faith in time, for the clock may soon be still.

I’M GOING TO THE REUNION
by Steve Savage "King of the Beasts"

I put off attending the Reunion because I had other things to do;
Now I’m saddened I didn’t go to see old friends I knew.
Looking at last year’s photos of those who chose to go,
Makes me long to be there with them at the Barbecue, Banquet and Show.
Why wasn’t I there to share the memories of our times now past;
With our dear departed brothers at the Reunion that was their last.
I put off attending the Reunion because I had other things to do;
Now I’m happy that I’m going to see friends both old and new.
I’m not going to miss this Reunion; that’s a promise I’ve got to keep;
So I can laugh and joke with folks like me before my Final Sleep.

WE ARE LIVING WITH THE "CHOICE" THAT WAS MADE by Steve Savage "King of the Beasts"

2008-01-22T12:22:00.002-05:00

See: ONCE I WAS A CRUSADER

and ARISE! STAND ON YOUR FEET!

Thirty-five years ago today, Monday, January 22, 1973, the United States Supreme Court made its most controversial decision in Roe v. Wade by declaring that abortion, the killing of a baby in the womb, is a right sanctioned under the provisions of the Constitution.

Acceptance of, and aquiescence to, this decision was the First Step on the One-Way Road to the Beginning of the End. This "Rotten Apple in the Barrel of Moral Principles" was quickly followed by a googolplex of quasi-criminal practices that has brought us to the systemic corruption we are currently experiencing today.

The people of the United States of America are now beginning to fully realize that we have slipped, and are continuing to slip, deeper and deeper toward a Hell of unimaginable proportions that awaits us. Soon, the Great Depression of the 1930's will appear in retrospect, if there is anyone left to retrospect, as a mere mild Recession compared to what lies ahead.

We have allowed our leaders to sell us into slavery to foreigners whom history has shown to be a cruel and merciless people. They have taken possession of our lands, our infrastructure, and ownership of our monetary system.

Our leaders have become as Shanda* Kommanders, the Death Camp Jews, who lured and cast their own people into the Ovens of the "Final Solution" to save their own skins.

Perhaps, then again, perhaps not, there will be someone, in some future time, who will remember and speak of Monday, January 22, 1973, as the actual moment of America's death in much the way that Kurtz's final words in Joseph Conrad's "Heart of Darkness" were indirectly narrated: “The horror! The horror!”
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*Shanda- Shame

'"THAT CAN'T HAPPEN HERE, CAN IT MISS WHITNEY?" by Steve Savage "King of the Beasts"

2008-01-13T11:11:00.003-05:00

"The people who cast the votes don’t decide an election, the people who count the votes do." - Joseph Stalin, Communist dictator

September 1949. I was 12 years old and a Seventh Grader in morning class at Long Branch Junior High School, back when we were the United States of America.

After Morning Prayers and the Pledge of Allegiance with our right hands extended in respectful reverence toward our Flag, Marion DeLuca, the "prettiest girl in the class," was chosen by our teacher, Miss Whitney ("Ms" wasn't invented yet), to read her "favorite Psalm - "Psalm 23." I loved that Psalm. It was mostly everyone else's favorite, as well, followed closely by Psalm 100 and Psalm 101.

Next, we all stood to sing the "Star Spangled Banner," then "God Bless America," with such an outpouring of love for, and pride in, what we knew, for certain, was the greatest country in the history of Mankind.

Once this regular morning routine was completed, we discussed "Current Events." It was mostly always about the evils of Communism.

Miss Whitney began the discussion by comparing the virtues of United Nations Diplomat, Dr. Ralph Bunche, Harvard Professor, acclaimed Academic, Scholar, and Athlete, nominated as the first person of color to receive the Nobel Peace Prize (which he did receive in 1950), to another man of color, Paul Robeson.

Although Robeson's credentials were as equally, if not more, impressive than Bunche's, e.g., All-American Football, Actor/Singer ("Old Man River"), and Phi Beta Kappa Scholar, he was labeled a (forgive the profanity) "Communist."

This instruction was directed mainly for the benefit of Laura Wilson, Willy Williams, Bobby Robinson, and Shirley Baker, the "Negroes" of the class. This was before their appellation evolved through the years from "Coloreds," "People of Color," "Blacks," and the current acceptable designation of "African-Americans."

Jimmy Duncan, mercifully interrupted Miss Whitney's "Compare and Contrast" lesson by announcing that his mother worked at Fort Monmouth and that he overheard her talking about the elections in Russia where Josef Stalin got 100% of the vote.

Miss Whitney promptly pointed out that the people in Russia were fooled into believing that they were actually voting. They were going to the Polls, casting Ballots that just as well might have been written on toilet paper and flushed down the toilet.

How righteous and proud she was in her exclamation, "Thank God (you could say "God" in those days) that could never happen here."

Fast Forward to January 2008. Because of questionable results in our Primary and National Elections, the integrity of our election process is being seriously questioned from every corner.

Historically, Exit Polls are never wrong, yet they predicted that Gore would win Florida in 2000, that Kerry would win Ohio in 2004, and that Obama would win New Hampshire last week. So How did Hillary win? What's the variable that ties all of these anomalies together?

DIEBOLD!

One candidate has gone so far as to demand a recount and commented that, "Ever since the 2000 election - and even before - the American people have been losing faith in the belief that their votes were actually counted. This recount isn't about who won 39% or 36% or even 1%. It's about establishing whether 100% of the voters had 100% of their votes counted exactly the way they cast them."

The candidate further stated, "Without an official recount, the voters of New Hampshire and the rest of the nation will never know whether there are flaws in our electoral system that need to be identified and addressed at this relatively early point in the Presidential nominating process."

"Can we please have a show of hands here?"

KARL FEY'S "DIME STORE DWELLINGS" by Steve Savage "King of the Beasts"

2008-01-12T13:51:00.001-05:00

Approximately two years ago, Martha Stewart's Living Magazine did a feature story on "Dime Store Christmas Houses" and directed readers to a Web site dedicated to them, called "Papa Ted's Place" featuring:
KARL FEY'S DIME STORE DWELLINGS.

The site recounts the history of the houses and gives information on their value at auction on the Internet.

The original cardboard houses, some made in Japan, as well as America, date back to 1928. At the time, they cost less than a dollar for a whole town at dime and department stores, like F.W. Woolworth's, as well as from various mail-order catalogs of the day, including the Charles Williams catalog out of New York, and the Sears and Roebuck catalog. Now the houses are extremely rare and are valued according to condition, but usually are found in groups for hundreds of dollars.

While a great many have attempted to reproduce the quality, craftsmanship, and appeal to the nostalgic interests of collectors of these beautiful time-frozen memories, only one creative genius has managed to captivate and enthrall the hearts of those who refuse to settle for anything less than perfection.

That gifted and talented artist is Karl Fey who, incidentally, is the nephew of Hank Fey, a member of our Army Security Agency Kagnew Station Guard Group, and cousin of 2008 Golden Globe Winner,Tina Fey, the brilliant writer, actress, director, etc., of TV's Saturday Night Live and 30 Rock.

When you visit Karl's web site, and see his unparalleled work, you will understand very clearly why his two year absence from this art form was sorely missed and why his return is being applauded so loudly.

Nostalgic Tableaus seem to be the domain of the Fey family. Karl's grandfather was Chief Electrician and creator of the internationally renowned Annual Christmas Railroad display of John Wanamaker's Department Store in Philadelphia.

Following in that tradition, Karl's Uncle Hank and father, Karl, did this Trolley Display (photo) for Rohm & Haas and have been commissioned to create an even more impressive display for their 100th Anniversay, to be celebrated in 2009.

Absolutely amazed at the level and diversity of artistry and creativity possessed by, from what I can determine, every member of the Fey family, I had to ask Hank, "From whom and where did all this originate?"

His reply was, "Where does it all come from? I trace it back to my great grandfather Charles Fey: ex-soldier in the Kaiser's army, toy maker extraordinaire, and - from what I can gather - all around Bohemian. Apparently the Germanic toy making tradition runs strong in our family and we just do what comes naturally. You might say we're modern day elves."

So there you have it. Five generations of the Fey family, whose creative genius, knowledge, skills, creativity, and unexcelled pride in craftsmanship, have been handed down from father to son over the past several centuries, safeguarding a tradition of creating rare, limited art forms that will continue to grow in beauty and value with each passing year.

Karl Fey says he will try to make his creations available on a limited basis, possibly by this coming March, 2008! Keep watching his web site. There will be limited numbers available on a first-come, first served basis and when the supply is gone that will be it until further notice.

OSAMA BIN LADEN IS DEAD ACCORDING TO BHUTTO

2007-12-29T16:39:00.001-05:00

November 2, 2007, Benazir Bhutto was interviewed by Sir David Frost. During the interview she mentioned that Osama Bin Laden had been murdered by Omar Sheikh. She said it so casually as though everyone knew it was common knowledge. Why didn't Frost ask her the obvious follow-up questions to this statement? Am I the only idiot out here who missed the news reports of his death?

OUR GREAT HISTORICAL DOCUMENTS ARE FALLING INTO PRIVATE OWNERSHIP by Steve Savage "King of the Beasts"

2007-12-19T07:21:00.001-05:00

The Magna Carta
"...here is a law which is above the King and which even he must not break. This reaffirmation of a supreme law and its expression in a general charter is the great work of Magna Carta; and this alone justifies the respect in which men have held it." -Winston Churchill, 1956

Sadly, a 710 year old copy of the Declaration of Human Rights, known as the Magna Carta, the most important document in the world, "the Birth Certificate of Freedom," bearing the seal of King Edward I and dated 1297 - the version that became part of English Law - was auctioned Tuesday, December 18, for $21.3 million.

It was bought by David Rubenstein of the Carlyle Group. Yes! That Carlyle Group.

Until a few days before its sale, it shared space at the National Archives in Washington, D.C., with the Declaration of Independence and the U.S. Constitution, the two documents that drew upon its principles.

The Master Copy of the document, sealed by King John in 1215, is unable to be located, but other copies exist. However, only 2 are held outside of Britain: the Australian government has a 1297 copy, and Rubenstein's, which is also a 1297 copy.

David Rubenstein's copy is the only one in the world that is held by a private citizen.

Perhaps if the War continues long enough, Mr. Rubenstein will be able to amass enough funds to purchase the remaining documents in the National Archives, the Declaration of Independence and the U.S. Constitution, for a complete matching set.

GOD BLESS YOU AND KEEP YOU SAFE, MY "DANNY BOY"

2007-12-15T19:02:00.005-05:00

This song has many interpretations.

For me, Danny, it's about you, my beloved son, going off to war and me waiting for your return.

Because you were named after your eponymous Welsh Great-Grandfather, Daniel Burch, and chose as your Confirmation name, "David," the patron saint of Wales, I thought it only fitting that our greatest Welsh singer, Tom Jones, sing this to you. God Bless you and keep you safe, my Danny Boy.

"Danny Boy"

Oh Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling
From glen to glen, and down the mountain side
The summer's gone, and all the roses falling
'Tis you, 'tis you must go and I must bide.

But come ye back when summer's in the meadow
Or when the valley's hushed and white with snow
'Tis I'll be here in sunshine or in shadow
Oh Danny boy, oh Danny boy, I love you so.

But when he come, and all the flowers are dying
If I am dead, as dead I well may be
You'll come and find the place where I am lying
And kneel and say an "Ave" there for me.

And I shall hear, tho' soft you tread above me
And all my grave will warm and sweeter be
For you will bend and tell me that you love me
And I shall sleep in peace until you come to me.

Caleb's Piano Recital at Lynnhaven Mall, Virginia Beach, VA

2007-12-08T18:47:00.000-05:00

This is my 6 year old grandson, Caleb, from whom, one day, I am certain, the world will see great accomplishments.

Caleb's Piano Recital at Lynnhaven Mall, Virginia Beach, VA

Photo: Caleb's Mom and Dad, my first born son, Edward James Anton and wife, Deborah. Ed is Minister of the Hampton Roads Church, Virginia Beach, VA and Author of "Repentance: A Cosmic Shift of Mind and Heart." Debbie is a Pediatrician whose practice is also in Virginia Beach. They have 3 sons: Zack, Chase, and Caleb; and daughter Lindsay.

"REMEMBER PEARL HARBOR" by Steve Savage "King of the Beasts"

2007-12-08T10:00:00.001-05:00

Oh, was yesterday Pearl Harbor? It came and went so quickly and without much fanfare. No longer politically correct, you know, to appear patriotic when immersed in a sea of hodge-podge humanity who cannot, nor will not, remember that they are Americans. We musn't offend our former enemies who are now our current creditors. Better not fly the Flag at half-mast either. Someone might notice. "Wouldn't be prudent."

The wars our forefathers fought for the very survival of America are no longer celebrated as great victories for liberty and freedom; nor are our heroes glorified for their bravery and courage. The emphasis on World War II history is now on racist internments of Resident Aliens and the segregation of Blacks in our military.

Napoleon said, "History is a set of lies agreed upon." How true that is. Our educational system is effectively eliminating America's past. What was once deemed important, is now unimportant; the once relevant is now irrelevant. Fact has become fiction; fiction fact, myth legend, and legend, history.

Our Founding Fathers, if they happen to appear in a textbook that has not been redacted to exclude their mention, are not portrayed as the great men they were, but rather, as slave owners.

Thomas Jefferson is characterized as, not only a slave owner, but also, as the adulterous, incestuous child molester of Sally Hemmings, his slave, and wife's half-sister.

Very few stand out of respect for the National Anthem any more; fewer still salute the Flag - more symbols of racism, I suppose. We celebrate KWAANZA and Hannukah by allowing their religious symbols on municipal property, yet will not hesitate to prosecute anything that even remotely smacks of Christianity.

I really don't know how we devolved into the divided, Balkanized America we've become, but it seems to me that the America we once knew, who "lifted her lamp beside the Golden Door" and cried out: "Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free," is no longer a "Melting Pot," but, rather, is rapidly becoming a "Rotted Stew."

"MEET MY TEACHERS" by Steve Savage "King of the Beasts"

2007-12-02T09:00:00.004-05:00

Sylvan Scolnick aka "Cherry Hill Fats"

The Sanskrit term "Upanishad" literally means "sitting down beside." It is a term that defines the relationship between a Teacher and his Student.

Soon after my Cosmic Consciousness Experience of August 1973 (see "About Me" Number 3: CREATION EXPERIENCE ) I was "set" upon a Path of Esoteric Learning, in the Greater Philadelphia Area Classroom of the School of Life, to be instructed by Master Teachers in Arcane Knowledge.

These teachings have never been, nor ever will be, written or recorded.

Though my Teachers are no longer among us, many results of their lessons have been accomplished by unwitting countless thousands through the instructions of their Last Disciple who is writing these words.

The names of my Teachers, in the order in which I synchronistically encountered each one, received their instructions and moved on, are:

1. Larry Mullenhagen: He recited the words of the "Great Secret" to me that I had to commit to memory in one hearing.

2. W.W. Lassiter: By including in my instructions the mantra,"People respond to strength with admiration and respect; they respond to weakness with strength," he taught me to be "Strong" in all that I am.

3. Sylvan Scolnick aka "Cherry Hill Fats": Endowed with a mind of unbelievable intellectual capacity, imprisoned in a 700 lb. body, he possessed business knowledge that would "post-grad" both the Harvard School of Business and the Wharton School of Penn.

4. Carl Spaulding: He was the Flame to the Moths. He possessed a Power of Magnetic Attraction and Strength of Presence from which few could escape.

5. Lou Piazza: A genius of the the highest magnitude, Lou was dyslexic, spoke in malaprops, and his very being engendered antipathy, hostility, and false feelings of superiority in others. When one thought that he was outsmarting Lou, that was the moment that one was being outsmarted.

6. John Wright: A creative genius, wealthy beyond the wealth of all men because, metaphorically speaking, he held the Combinations to All Safes. The World was his Bank from which he could withdraw whatever cash he needed to satisfy his needs or whims.

"LAST LETTERS" by Steve Savage

2007-11-25T12:12:00.000-05:00

Below are Last Letters of the Faceless, Nameless Numbers that were once Statistics scrawled across the Chryons (bottom banners) of our Cable TV Screens, while the Mainstream Nightly News was reporting such important news as "French transit workers back on job."

Read these letters, which follow, as though they were written to you and your family by your own son or daughter, father or mother, sister, brother, or friend, and yes, even in some cases, Grandmothers, who are serving in Harm's Way.

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Excerpts of letters from Army Capt. Joshua T. Byers, 29, of Anderson, S.C., who was killed on July 23 when a bomb detonated under his vehicle.
Thursday, June 5

Dear Mom and Dad,

A couple of days ago, my squadron commander told me that I would be taking command of Fox Troop in June, after all. . . . SWEET! I left my conversation with him walking on air! Not only will I soon be a cavalry troop commander (the most lethal combination of fire power that a captain can be in command of, in any service), BUT I will have the opportunity and the incredible responsibility of commanding in combat. I have to admit that I am really nervous and just pray that I am up to the task out here to lead 120 men in combat operations. I will give them everything I have to give — I love them already, just because they're mine. I pray, with all my heart, that I will be able to take every single one of them home safe when we finish our mission here.

Friday, June 20

It seems like I've been here for so much longer than I have. My life away from here seems so far away. In some ways, I don't think I'll ever have it back completely. I think war takes certain things from you, or maybe it gives certain things that change your perspective.

I love being in command. It's so great to lead again. I love taking care of my men and accomplishing our missions together here. I am blessed.

Thursday, July 3

In the past two nights we've been attacked each night while on patrol. No casualties for us. . . . I see more bravery in a day here than I had seen in my entire life prior to this.

I'm healthy and doing fine — although I really want to get that redeployment order and come home (as everyone does) — I don't dwell on it. We are accomplishing our mission here and I think I'll take a lot of pride in that for the rest of my life. Although the sacrifice is great, the rewards of service are so much greater.

Friday, July 18

Life here continues to be challenging, but we're all hanging in there. We got a blow to our morale a few days ago when the corps commander visited us (three-star general). He said there was no way we were going home in less than nine to 12 months. Man, that's going to suck. We're working on month No. 4 right now and it already seems like we've been here forever and a day.

I still love being a commander. I love leading troops and taking care of them. It is a huge responsibility and I feel the weight of it every day. I send the thing I love most out here — my men — into harm's way every day and every night. I just do my best to ensure they're ready, trained, equipped and properly led in every situation.

Monday, July 21

We conducted a huge operation in the desert about a week ago. We had intel that suggested that the bad guys were hiding weapons and ammo out in the desert and bringing it into the city to attack us. We swept all of the desert north of us and found lots of weapons/ ammo. . . . Two of the targets that we captured turned out to be first cousins of Saddam Hussein.

I love you both with all of my heart! I'm working very hard here — adding honor to our country and to our family name!

Love,
Josh

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Excerpt of an e-mail message to his wife, Theresa, from Army Master Sgt. Kevin N. Morehead, 33, of Little Rock, Ark., who was killed Sept. 12 during a raid on enemy forces. The message was sent July 7.

Hey Baby,

I do enjoy planning for the future. It gives me a lot of hope to be able to plan for our success. Sometimes I think that maybe I wouldn't come up with these plans if I wasn't deployed. Being here focuses my attention on home and I have time to come up with lots of avenues for us. It has been one blessing for me being here. I think if we can get the things done that I have come up with we will be able to have a prosperous life ahead of us. I don't want you to worry about how we are going to make it after I get out. . . . I want us to be able to enjoy our life and do things that we want to do.

I think after we get these bills settled and get on track this winter with the property and the house, next spring I am going to get us another boat. We had a lot of fun when we had a boat. I remember when me, you and Jesse used to go to the lake and camping. Those were really fun times. I would eventually like to get a camper or an R.V., too. . . . I know how you like to have a nice place to stay. If we got a nice camper, then it would almost be like staying in a hotel room with A.C. and a private shower and a queen size bed.

I love you very much. I can't wait to get on with our lives. I really look forward to our future together.
Kevin

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Excerpts of letters from Army Pfc. Rachel K. Bosveld, 19, of Oshkosh, Wis., who was killed Oct. 26 in a mortar attack.

Tuesday, Oct. 14

Mom,

I'm doing fine, Mom. Yes, I did get into a sort of accident, if that's what you call it. We were hit by an IED (improvised explosive device) or RPG (rocket-propelled grenade), which set our truck on fire because it struck the battery and fuel line. My neck and shoulder were pretty banged up for about two weeks. My shoulder popped (dislocated) and I jammed my neck as well. I lost my hearing in my left ear for a few weeks. My hearing in general isn't good at all anymore. I've been through my share of explosives. I'm sending pictures home to be developed of my truck (or what's left of it). I took a few of me with the truck, so you could all see that I'm O.K.

It's still pretty warm during the day, but gets very chilly at night. Could you try and find one of my hooded sweatshirts to send to me?

Right now I'm soaking my feet. My feet take a beating in these boots. My feet are all cut up and sore. . . . Feels soooooo good now, anyway. I guess I haven't been taking as good care of myself this month. We have a physical training test I'm getting ready for. This month and last we haven't gotten much time to do P.T. So I work, sleep, work, P.T., work — oh, and eat.

Well Mom, my 20-minute soak is up. Take care. I love you. Don't worry so much about me, Mom, my intuition has already saved a few lives here and my own as well.

Monday, Oct. 20

I'm doing great this week. Sure, I've dodged lots of bullets and such, gotten little to no sleep and eaten nasty food, but I am doing great.

I got to drive a tank! I got a tour, learned how to operate everything, load everything, and I got to DRIVE IT! I was tooth from ear to ear!

I'm getting a Purple Heart for the accident, along with eight other people in my platoon. . . . Someone is always getting injured here. There have been no fatalities so far in my company, though, just lots of injuries.

So, how are you? Eighteen days till my birthday! I can't wait! No one probably even knows when it is over here.

Well, bye for now, just wanted to let you know I'm O.K. and I miss you.

I love you,
Rachel

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Excerpt of a letter from Army Pvt. Robert L. Frantz, 19, of San Antonio, who was killed June 17 when he was struck by a grenade. The letter was postmarked June 15.

Dear Mom,

I got the first package, and the letter you sent me. Sorry if I haven't been writing so much. I pull 12-hour guard shifts from 7 at night till 7 in the morning, and then I go on patrols some time in between those hours, and when I am not doing that I am usually sleeping.

Someone shot at us last night. I was getting ready to go to sleep and I hear a pop, pop, and then the bullets ricocheted off the building right outside the window I was standing in front of. . . . It kinda sucks, when all you can think about is there's someone out there trying to kill you or your buddy next to you, and all you can do is hope you kill them first.

I got to stay the night in Saddam's wife's palace the first night I was in Baghdad. That thing is huge. I want to see what his main palace looks like. . . . I took some pictures, hopefully they'll come out.

We've had random gunfire within a 100-meter radius all night, every night, since I have been here. It kinda scares you the first couple nights, but you tend to get used to it.

Well, Mom, I gotta go. Tell everyone I love them and miss them very much.

Love always and forever,
Robby

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Excerpt of a letter from Army Pfc. Jesse A. Givens, 34, of Springfield, Mo. Private Givens was killed May 1 when his tank fell into the Euphrates River after the bank on which he was parked gave way. This letter was written to be delivered to his family if he died. Melissa is his wife, Dakota his 6-year-old stepson and Bean the name he used for his son, Carson, who was born May 29.

My family,

I never thought that I would be writing a letter like this. I really don't know where to start. I've been getting bad feelings, though and, well, if you are reading this. . . .

The happiest moments in my life all deal with my little family. I will always have with me the small moments we all shared. The moments when you quit taking life so serious and smiled. The sounds of a beautiful boy's laughter or the simple nudge of a baby unborn. You will never know how complete you have made me. You saved me from loneliness and taught me how to think beyond myself. You taught me how to live and to love. You opened my eyes to a world I never dreamed existed.

Dakota . . . you taught me how to care until it hurts, you taught me how to smile again. You taught me that life isn't so serious and sometimes you just have to play. You have a big, beautiful heart. Through life you need to keep it open and follow it. Never be afraid to be yourself. I will always be there in our park when you dream so we can play. I love you, and hope someday you will understand why I didn't come home. Please be proud of me.

Bean, I never got to see you but I know in my heart you are beautiful. I know you will be strong and big-hearted like your mom and brother. I will always have with me the feel of the soft nudges on your mom's belly, and the joy I felt when I found out you were on your way. I love you, Bean.

Melissa, I have never been as blessed as the day I met you. You are my angel, soulmate, wife, lover and best friend. I am sorry. I did not want to have to write this letter. There is so much more I need to say, so much more I need to share. A lifetime's worth. I married you for a million lifetimes. That's how long I will be with you. Please keep my babies safe. Please find it in your heart to forgive me for leaving you alone. . . . Teach our babies to live life to the fullest, tell yourself to do the same.

I will always be there with you, Melissa. I will always want you, need you and love you, in my heart, my mind and my soul. Do me a favor, after you tuck the children in. Give them hugs and kisses from me. Go outside and look at the stars and count them. Don't forget to smile.

Love Always,
Your husband,
Jess

STOP EMINENT DOMAIN ABUSE NOW! by Steve Savage "King of the Beasts"

2007-11-22T09:14:00.002-05:00

My hometown, Long Branch, New Jersey, was America's First Seashore Resort, boasting of the world's best beaches. The crystal clear waters and view of the Ocean's Horizon was a pleroma of beauty that had to be experienced to describe. Every Beach had its own little community of quaint, picturesque cottages that granted quick, easy access to a panorama we Long Branchers considered to be a very special gift from God to all of us.

My grandfather, Julius Lafayette Granit, World Champion 10 Mile Ocean Swimmer, was Chief Lifeguard in the 1890's and I was Chief Lifeguard through the 1960's. No matter where we Long Branchers would go in this world, our hearts would always long for the image of our beautiful seaside that was so indelibly painted on the mural of our minds.

Over the years, the municipal political machinery of Long Branch was usurped by vacationing visitors who came to stay and exploit what was God-Given for their their own greedy, personal gain. Through sheer force of their voting numbers, they took over the Administration of Long Branch and quickly began to condemn homes and businesses through the use of Eminent Domain Abuse.

Many of these homes and businesses that had stood for centuries, were "in-your-face" sold to developer friends who, seemingly overnight, turned the Beachfront into some grotesque monstrosity of cheaply constructed homogenized condominium firetraps.

The eulogy, below, eloquently written by Jeff Rowe, is the true story of Anna DeFaria, the courageous Long Branch woman, who gave her life in defense of her home and her neighbors homes. It was she who was at the forefront of the battle to stave off the greedy monsters behind the Eminent Domain Machine that continues to devour the lives and livelihoods of the victims in its Path.

Stand Strong America! Don't Let Long Branch's Story Become Your Story! STOP EMINENT DOMAIN ABUSE NOW!

Steve Savage "King of the Beasts"

-------------------
EMINENT DOMAIN FOE DIES, BUT HER SPIRIT ENDURES
by Jeff Rowes
[Jeff Rowes is an attorney with the Institute for Justice in Arlington, Va., which represents the MTOTSA homeowners in Long Branch and which represented the homeowners in Kelo.]
------------------------------------
In 1960, Anna and Antone DeFaria plunked down $6,400 for their American dream, a tiny seaside bungalow in historic Long Branch. Though small by today's standards, their home served the DeFarias well, faithfully sheltering them and their children from the cold winds of the Atlantic and the cold winds of life.

Anna DeFaria, who died last week 10 years after Antone passed away, never imagined in 1960 that her modest home would one day become a flashpoint in the nationwide fight against eminent domain abuse. She and her neighbors in the working-class Marine Terrace-Ocean Terrace-Seaview Avenue (MTOTSA) neighborhood have been locked in a closely watched legal battle to save their homes from Long Branch, which is trying to seize them so a private developer can build even more beachfront condos for the rich.

Those of us privileged to stand with DeFaria in this important struggle drew inspiration from her unwavering commitment to the principles of liberty. Although offered inducements not available to her neighbors, she was a rock. She understood that this case was about the sanctity of the home and the constitutional right of everyone, even people of modest means, to keep the property they worked so hard to own. There was no way she would sell because, as she put it, Long Branch was not trying to take just her house, but "my home, my life."

Eminent domain abuse was catapulted into the headlines in 2005 when a narrow majority of the U.S. Supreme Court ruled in Kelo v. City of New London, Conn., that the U.S. Constitution allows the government to transfer property from one person to another for the latter's private financial benefit so long as there is some hope that jobs and tax revenue might follow.

In a now-famous dissent, Justice Sandra Day O'Connor warned that the decision in Kelo meant that the government now can seize any beloved home, any booming small business, any thriving church and even pastoral rural land whenever someone richer comes along promising to build something bigger. The justice also predicted that the burdens of eminent domain abuse would fall on those least able to defend themselves.

O'Connor was right on both counts. We at the Institute for Justice documented a dramatic proliferation of eminent domain abuse in the wake of Kelo as local governments, no longer concerned about pesky constitutional rights, binged on private property. We also just published a study showing, based on U.S. census data, that people subject to eminent domain for private economic development are much more likely to be poor and from minority communities.

As bleak as this seems, there is reason to hope. Courageous Americans like DeFaria have taken on greedy local governments and developers in strategic lawsuits across the country arguing that state constitutions provide more property rights protection than the Supreme Court is willing to recognize in the Constitution. So far, two such cases have reached their respective state supreme courts, where the Kelo theory of eminent domain for private economic development was soundly rejected.

State legislatures also responded to unprecedented public outrage over Kelo. Forty-two states have reformed their eminent domain laws to prevent what happened to DeFaria and her neighbors.

Although New Jersey, which is one of the worst eminent domain abusers in the country, did not enact any reform following Kelo, all of us took heart last spring when the state Supreme Court unanimously ruled that Paulsboro violated the state constitution by labeling harmless rural property "blighted" so it could be transferred to a big corporation. DeFaria was particularly joyous at discovering the most distinguished judges in New Jersey agreed with her that rights are for everyone, not just the rich and powerful.

DeFaria embodied the very best in all of us. Though as tiny as the proverbial David, she never shrank from Goliath. And though given much reason to be bitter, she was a woman of enduring devotion who never failed to wish God's blessings on everyone, even those in the city government out to take her cherished home.

Her personal fight may be over, but, to no one's surprise, her children have vowed to carry on. Through her family and our memory of her, she will remain with us in spirit as we continue our fight to vindicate the constitutional rights in which she so deeply believed.

"Beowulf" and The Age of Hybridization by Steve Savage

2007-11-18T11:31:00.000-05:00

Friday the 16th, "Beowulf the Movie" opened at local theaters.

[PHOTO: Ray Winstone as "Beowulf"]

O.K. It isn't a true to story line representation of the Beowulf we had to suffer through in High School English. But that can be excused since only a single manuscript of Beowulf survived the Anglo-Saxon era.

For many centuries, the manuscript was all but forgotten, It was not until 1936, when the Oxford scholar J.R.R. Tolkien (who later wrote The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings, works heavily influenced by Beowulf) published a groundbreaking paper entitled " Beowulf: The Monsters and the Critics" that the manuscript gained recognition as a serious work of art.

Beowulf is now widely taught and is often presented as the first important work of English literature, creating the impression that Beowulf is in some way the source of the English canon.

But because it was not widely read until the 1800s and not widely regarded as an important artwork until the 1900s, Beowulf has had little direct impact on the development of English poetry. In fact, Chaucer, Shakespeare, Marlowe, Pope, Shelley, Keats, and most other important English writers before the 1930s had little or no knowledge of the epic.

It was not until the mid-to-late twentieth century that Beowulf began to influence writers, and, since then, it has had a marked impact on the work of many important novelists and poets, including W.H. Auden, Geoffrey Hill, Ted Hughes, and Seamus Heaney, the 1995 recipient of the Nobel Prize in literature, whose recent translation of the epic is now the standard for all that is "Beowulf."

All this history aside, "Beowulf the Movie," marks the beginning of a whole new genre in the film industry: Hybridization - the blending of Actors and Animation.

This is the single most significant revolution in the Film Industry since 1929 when "The Jazz Singer" introduced sound to theater audiences with the prophetic words from Al Jolson, "You ain't heard nuthin' yet!"

Well, now that "Beowulf" has broken ground for a brand new art form that is performance-based, putting the virtual realms that, heretofore, were the exclusive domains of XBOX and PLAYSTATION 3, up on the Big Screen in 3D , "You ain't seen nuthin' yet!"

A new world of entertainment is about to unfold before us, a world dominated by Writers and Computer Animators. Creative genius, like water, will soon rise to it's rightful level and pay itself first.

The greatest actors who have ever lived, the Hepburns, Bogarts, Tracys, Bacalls, Oliviers, Waynes, Gables, Garbos, Scotts, Barrymores, Rathbones, and countless others, whose personas and image groupings are so indelibly etched in our social consciousness, can, and will, be Cybernetically Resurrected as Computerized "Zombies" to perform once again for paying audiences.

"THANKSGIVING PRAYER" by Steve Savage "King of the Beasts"

2007-11-17T09:10:00.003-05:00

[March 1, 1980 Wedding Photo: Anna, 27, and Me, 42]

Thanks for my wonderful, carefree life
With access to cash and a beautiful wife.
No worries, health problems, or bothersome blues,
Can jump in the car and eat out where I choose.
Thanks for the Grandfather Clock, the Giant TV,
Lounging around doing nothing in anonymity.
Thanks for teaching me the tricks of the trade,
Enabling me to live this outrageous charade.
Thanks for my new teeth, spaces gone from my smile,
Fountain pen, diamond ring, watch with gold dial.
Thanks for the friendship of so many nice folks;
The joys, the laughter, camaraderie, and jokes.
Thanks for letting me live in these beautiful Hills,
As just an ordinary Joe who’s paying the bills.
Thanks for no pressure, no sleepless nights,
No guilt feelings, no senseless fights.
Thanks for making me the world’s luckiest man;
A husband, "Daddy," "Pop-pop;" my family’s biggest fan.
Most of all thanks to be in this Land of the Free,
With the right to pursue happiness and opportunity.

IN HONOR OF MY BELOVED SON'S SERVICE TO AMERICA by Steve Savage "King of the Beasts"

2007-11-10T10:45:00.001-05:00

Today, November 10, 2007, my son, Dan, deployed for his Second Tour of Duty in Iraq. For the next 12 to 15 months, his beautiful new bride, Amber and her family, Dan's mother, Anna, his five brothers, Eddie, Michael, Tommy, Matthew and Scott, and I, will be praying every moment that God will guide him, protect him, and keep him safe from harm.

This is the child Anna sees and carries in her heart. When he was only 4 years old, he said to his mother,"Mom, you know some day I'm going to have to leave you." Anna, faced with the future, said, "Yes, but not now."

This is NOW!
Undefeated New York/New Jersey Junior Olympic Boxing Champion, Danny "The Lion-Hearted" Anton, Army Ranger Hand-to-Hand Combatives Champion, "Achilles" to the men of the 2-69 BN, 3rd ID, Twice-Awarded Bronze Star for Bravery, US Army Ranger Captain Daniel Burch Anton.

"CRAZY CHARLIE" by Steve Savage "King of the Beasts"

2007-10-27T18:38:00.001-04:00

[Angels often come in unfamiliar forms and guises to bring messages to those chosen to perform some pre-ordained duty. Some may even appear as madmen.]
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That August Summer Evening of 1972, was the chapter in my life that was not unlike the literary device known as "foreshadowing."

The lighted outdoor pool at the Quality Inn where I was staying in Cherry Hill, New Jersey, was completely enclosed in an inflatable translucent cover, giving it the appearance of a huge diamond that sparkled in the cool evening hours that were leading into night.

As was the nightly custom, the guests of the motel and members of the on-premise Holiday Health Club all gathered together, relaxing in lawn chairs on the thick lush grass that surrounded the pool, sipping cocktails, and making lots of small talk.

The males displayed their dominance in the descending order of their status in the natural order of things and mentally targeted for conquest, the females they desired to be their amour pour la nuit.

As the mating ritual played out, and the hours passed, those lacking je ne sais quoi, faded as gray shadows into the backdrop of an ever darkening curtain until only a few of us remained.

Suddenly, without warning, a powerful voice, exploded from out of a black silhouette of a man within a Kirlian Aura formed by the backlight from the pool.

It sounded for all the world like the Jeremianic Voice of Doom:

"They're going to turn you into slaves, Your money will be worthless. They took away the Silver and they'll take away the Gold. First they gave you paper, then they gave you checks, next they're going to control all your money and give you a piece of plastic. They're making money out of nothing. It's all counterfeit."

One of the guests or members, not sure which, remarked, "Aw, that's Crazy Charlie. Don't pay any attention to him. He's harmless."

After recovering from the initial shock of hearing Charlie's stentorian voice, they all quickly joined in the "Let's humor poor old Charlie" scene.

I wasn't too sure that he was crazy. They say the Bell of Truth rings in every man and, I have to admit, it was ringing in me. Knowing that "Wise men investigate what fools take for granted," I spoke at great length with Charlie and was astounded at his wealth of knowledge.

Charlie gave me two secret books to read that night. They appeared to be cheaply published paperbacks out of Salt Lake City, Utah, authored by a Robert L. Preston.

One book was titled Wake Up America, newly published in 1972, and the second was How To Prepare For The Coming Crash, published in 1971. Both books proved to be the most prophetic books I have ever read.

I still read them periodically, amazed that someone was writing about the Federal Reserve and Wall Street Financing of the Russian Revolution at a time when to do so would have made you a sure candidate for the the "Loony Bin."

The books described the creation and workings of The Council On Foreign Relations. In those days it was regarded as a subversive organization, with headquarters in New York, around the corner from, and socially connected to, the Russian Embassy.

The New World Order, Federal Reserve System, Gold and Silver Monetary Standards, and many other events and entities that we take for granted as commonplace and acceptable today, were also described in detail.

Today, almost everyone running for President of the United States is a member of The Council On Foreign Relations.

We're looking at a Chinese Menu of Candidates where all the food has the same ingredients but listed under different names.

Not much has changed from 1972 to the present among the charges leveled by the conspiracy theorists, with one very notable exception:

Somewhere along the line, the World's Oldest Fraternal Organization, Freemasonry, whose Brotherhood can boast of the likes of Washington, Franklin, Lafayette, Voltaire, Mozart, and many other of our greatest, most revered, historical figures,
has been falsely accused and incorporated into the conspiracy equation, and is being scapegoated as the responsible party for all of the world's present day ills. Why? Who are the ones who are calling evil good and good evil?

The Conspiracy Theorists themselves are, in fact, the modern day equivalent of Philip IV of France and Pope Clement V, attempting to subdue Freemasonry in the same manner in which the Knights Templar, Poor Knights of Christ and the Temple of Solomon, were both libeled and slandered.

Listen closely! Don't you hear the Confessions of the Conspiracy Theorists in their Accusations?

"CONGRATULATIONS TO DONALD LEE HARDY, KNIGHT COMMANDER OF THE COURT OF HONOR" by Steve Savage "King of the Beasts"

2007-10-16T13:51:00.002-04:00

IN MEMORIAM
Donald Lee Hardy b. November 4, 1944, d. December 28, 2010

Donald Lee Hardy, Knight Commander of the Court of Honor

SPECIAL ANNOUNCEMENT

In a special called Executive Session of The Supreme Council 33rd Degree, of the Ancient and Accepted Rite of Freemasonry, held in Washington, D.C., Donald Lee Hardy, our brother member of the Kagnew Guard Site, has been elected to the Rank & Decoration of Knight Commander of the Court of Honor.

Election to this milestone in one's Masonic career is a very significant honor. Less than one in two-hundred Scottish Rite Masons are elected to receive this honor and wear the Distinctive Jewel and Red Cap of a Knight Commander of the Court of Honor.

Don's Investiture Ceremony is scheduled for Saturday Morning, October 20, 2007. This will be followed by an evening Traditional Red & White Banquet, in Don's honor.

No less a personage than P.G. "Pete" Normond, Jr. 33rd Degree, Chairman of the Advisory Conference, Valley of Houston, Ancient and Accepted Rite of Freemasonry, noted that everyone throughout all of Freemasonry is proud of Don Hardy.

I am certain that all of us who share membership with Don on the Kagnew Guard Site, also share Mr. Normond's sentiments and applaud Don's achievements and accomplishments in the World's Oldest Fraternal Order and wish him every continued success in an already very distinguished Masonic career.

"NON-VOLUNTARY EUTHANASIA" The Next Station Stop On The Death Train To Hell by Steve Savage "King of the Beasts"

2007-10-14T13:36:00.004-04:00

[An ethical adviser to the British Medical Association has firmly backed non-voluntary euthanasia for patients who are too ill to ask for death. Professor Len Doyal, an emeritus professor of medical ethics and a member of the BMA's ethics committee, writes in the new Royal Society of Medicine journal Clinical Ethics that dignity in dying sometimes means that doctors should kill their patients.]

The 1973 U.S.A. legalization of Abortion was the first step on the Slippery Slope of the Solution to the Malthusian Problem of how to best implement "Herd Control."

"Death with Dignity" came next.

Now with a world population of 6.66 Billion and rising, we will soon witness the "Logan's Run" phenomenon, i.e., Non-Voluntary Euthanasia.

Pro-Life/Pro-Choice matters little now. We passed the "Point of No Return" when we first took Innocent Life under the guise of Constitutionality.

Can it get worse? You bet! Scream now, while you can, because when you see our "Final Destination," your Spirit will shatter like glass and the shards will be eternally frozen in a Horrific Fear no Mortal nor Immortal has ever experienced.

WELCOME TO THE FUTURE by Steve Savage "King of the Beasts"

2007-10-13T18:59:00.002-04:00

ELOI (above) and MORLOCKS from "THE TIME MACHINE"

It has become increasingly more apparent that 19th Century London born science fiction author, H.G. Wells, author of The Time Machine, was a much more prophetic visionary than previously thought.

We have become a people symbolically divided into "Eloi" and "Morlocks."

One has only to watch any current TV Quiz Show, e.g., "Are You Smarter Than A Fifth Grader," "1 Versus 100," "Who Wants To Be A Millionaire," etc., to see how far the general population has "dumbed down" into laziness, ennui and apathy.

We are now a nation of automatons, blank playback machines that spout engrammic drivel, false original thought that has been programmed into us through repetitive messaging via the media. At the sound of the "Sirens," we morph into "Pavlovian Eloi" and mindlessly march toward the fate the "Morlocks" have prepared for us.

There is a pervasive miasma of Doom that has infected our very Will to Survive. Somehow we believe that it's all going to mercifully end in a "George Carlinesque Pyrotechnic Show of Complete Obliteration."

Unfortunately, the fate reserved for us is "not to end with a bang but a whimper."

DEFENSE OF MAN'S BEST FRIEND BY GEORGE GRAHAM VEST (1830-1904)

2007-10-07T07:43:00.003-04:00

[PHOTO: Susie Q is a beautiful AKC registered Red female, long-haired Dachshund. Susie Q will be three years old March 12, 2008. She loves tennis balls and will worry you to death about going out to play ball with her.
Proud Owners: Jim and Sheila Watson,Georgetown, S.C.]

[PHOTO: Ranger, a Champion Male, 3 year old, Siberian Husky. Ranger loves the water and has his own swimming pool.
Proud Owners: Captain Daniel Burch Anton and Amber Nicole Anton, Columbus, Georgia]
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When it was revealed that Atlanta Falcons Quarterback Michael Vick was not only involved in the illegal and heinous sport of Dog Fighting, but that he killed the losing dogs by body slamming them, Dog Lovers everywhere were outraged, and rightfully so. When Michael Vick comes to trial in 2008, perhaps his prosecutor should take a page out of George Graham Vest's book when he addresses the Jury.

George Graham Vest (1830-1904) served as U.S. Senator from Missouri from 1879 to 1903 and became one of the leading orators and debaters of his time. This delightful speech is from an earlier period in his life when he practiced law in a small Missouri town. It was given in court while representing a man who sued another for the killing of his dog. During the trial, Vest ignored the testimony, but when his turn came to present a summation to the jury, he made the following speech and won the case.

Gentlemen of the Jury: The best friend a man has in the world may turn against him and become his enemy. His son or daughter that he has reared with loving care may prove ungrateful. Those who are nearest and dearest to us, those whom we trust with our happiness and our good name may become traitors to their faith. The money that a man has, he may lose. It flies away from him, perhaps when he needs it most. A man's reputation may be sacrificed in a moment of ill-considered action. The people who are prone to fall on their knees to do us honor when success is with us, may be the first to throw the stone of malice when failure settles its cloud upon our heads.

The one absolutely unselfish friend that man can have in this selfish world, the one that never deserts him, the one that never proves ungrateful or treacherous is his dog. A man's dog stands by him in prosperity and in poverty, in health and in sickness. He will sleep on the cold ground, where the wintry winds blow and the snow drives fiercely, if only he may be near his master's side. He will kiss the hand that has no food to offer. He will lick the wounds and sores that come in encounters with the roughness of the world. He guards the sleep of his pauper master as if he were a prince. When all other friends desert, he remains. When riches take wings, and reputation falls to pieces, he is as constant in his love as the sun in its journey through the heavens.

If fortune drives the master forth, an outcast in the world, friendless and homeless, the faithful dog asks no higher privilege than that of accompanying him, to guard him against danger, to fight against his enemies. And when the last scene of all comes, and death takes his master in its embrace and his body is laid away in the cold ground, no matter if all other friends pursue their way, there by the graveside will the noble dog be found, his head between his paws, his eyes sad, but open in alert watchfulness, faithful and true even in death.

George Graham Vest - c. 1855

"DEJA VU" by Steve Savage "King of the Beasts"

2007-10-06T10:30:00.003-04:00

November 12, 1977. Two weeks before my Trial in the Philadelphia Federal Courthouse was to begin, I experienced a dream that greatly disturbed me.

THE DREAM

I was in New York City, on the second floor of a building, located at the northeast corner of 43rd Street and Fifth Avenue, in the space that had previously been occupied by Radio Station WNEW.

I walked down a flight of stairs to the street below to the Deli.

Someone, for some unknown reason, handed me an umbrella just as two burly "cop-like" men moved toward me.

I opened the umbrella, grasped the handle, and found myself floating upwards, like Mary Poppins, away from what I sensed was certain danger.

As quickly as the umbrella had lifted me to the safety of "beyond reach," it as slowly lowered me into the grasp of the "Fedora'd Faceless Wearers of XXL Trenchcoats."

"Let's go!" one of them said, "You're going to Candlewood!"

For days, because the dream was so vivid, I asked everyone I knew if they had ever heard of, or knew where "Candlewood" was. No one seemed to know, and as the days wore on, it began to fade from my consciousness because there were more immediate problems that demanded my attention.

November 29, 1977. The Trial in Philadelphia was over. I was given a maximum sentence of 65 years in Federal Prison.

As soon as the words of the sentence had been pronounced, I walked over to embrace and kiss Anna who had been in the Courtroom every day of the Trial. I was then led away to begin serving my sentence immediately.

I knew, at that moment, why it was that I had spent that year in the Kagnew Guardhouse twenty years earlier. It was to strengthen me and to prepare me for this time.

My sole possession, which I was allowed to retain, was my Lockman Foundation New American Standard, Leather Bound, Thumb Indexed Bible.

Imprinted on the cover, in Gold Lettering, is the enigmatic name "THEOPHILUS;" someone who was unknown to the people of the time that Luke wrote his eponymous Gospel and The Acts of the Apostles.

After a several weeks Oydssey through the Valley of the Shadow of Death, shackled and chained hand and foot, on bus rides that went nowhere, caged with murderers, rapists, drug dealers and addicts, I was brought to the Metropolitan Correctional Facility in New York City.

Several more weeks later, I was chained and shackled again and, once more, "Put on the Bus." After several hours ride, I saw signs that read "Welcome to Connecticut."

Soon, thereafter, the bus slowed down as it approached the large imposing facility that was Danbury Federal Prison.

The Prison Guard assigned to the bus stood up and turned to face and address his seated, shackled prisoners.

He began to look and sound, for all the world, like a Beverly Hills Tour Bus Guide, before a "Captive Audience," enthusiastically naming all the Celebrity Inmates with whom we would be sharing company: G. Gordon Liddy of Watergate fame, George Hurst, inventor of the Hurst Shifter, Sonny Wortzik, the Bank Robber played by Al Pacino in "Dog Day Afternoon," among others.

As the bus was about to enter the private road that led to the prison, I glanced to the right and saw a large sign, upon which were written the words:

"WELCOME TO CANDLEWOOD ESTATES"

"OCTOBER 4, 1957" by Steve Savage "King of the Beasts"

2007-10-04T10:20:00.002-04:00

Me, Rt., AGE 20, GHINDA OUTPOST, ERITREA, SEPTEMBER 1957

GUARDHOUSE, KAGNEW STATION, ASMARA, ERITREA

[NOTE: The purpose in writing this story is not to portray a "Poor Me!" "Look what they did to me!" rant. I wouldn't change one iota of my life if I were offered to be able to do so. In the 70 some odd years that have been given me, my life has been filled with every adventure and excitement imaginable. My Lord God has been with me every step of the way, guiding me, protecting me, and strengthening me in every way. Without this experience and the dozens of others with which He has blessed me, how could I have ever known who I was, and why, in spite of all my past sins, He loves me still.]

The world changed fifty years ago, today.

October 4, 1957 is the day the Soviet Union successfully launched Sputnik I, the world's first artificial satellite. It marked the beginning of the Space Age.

How is it that October 4, 1957 is so indelibly etched in my mind? It's because it marks another event that initiated a dramatic change in my life that would remain with me forever. It's the date I began serving time as the first Prisoner of the newly constructed Kagnew Station Guard House shown in the photo above.

I was 20 years old, with only a handful of days left after a 30 Month Tour of Duty at Radio Marina, Kagnew Station, Asmara, Eritrea, Ethiopia, and had just been convicted by a Special Court-Martial and sentenced to 6 Months at Hard Labor for whatever legal terms are used to describe being in a fight in the downtown streets that bordered the "Bosh" of the city.

There were only two of us who went to town that fateful night, celebrating the waning days of a tour that had seemed to last forever. We were the last of the mid '50's era Guards who, until we first arrived at FS 8604 DU, had absolutely no idea that we would be cast in the role of Military Police Officers. We were Warriors costumed as Enforcers.

Everyone else of our kind and time were gone now in mid 1957. We were dinosaurs. I remember how we used to laugh that the "Army" had come to Asmara and found us stranded there.

Army Rules and Regulations, and enforcement of the Uniform Code of Military Justice had also arrived.

What we of Radio Marina called C.I.A.A.O., was now the new Kagnew Station. MOS Military Police Officers had replaced Infantry MOS Guards. There were barracks now, instead of shacks. They even had a school for dependent children complete with a School Bus and a School Bus Guard. After two and a half years of working the Main Gate, I was that School Bus Guard.

The French have a word, "Bouleversement," which means a complete reversal from the way things were. The New Kagnew Station of 1957 was "Bouleversement" made manifest.

The days of the Post Commander, a Signal Corps Colonel, in exile for screwing up at his last Post, Ft. Monmouth, NJ; drunkenly lying on the grass below the Three Towers with his Austrian mistress who worked at the PX; shooting out the lights with a Thompson Submachine Gun; then sending House Boys up the Towers to replace the lights so they could be shot out again; Guards and Operations guys sneaking Kathy, Asmara's "Nymphomaniac du Jour," into the Barracks; Junior Officers playing "Grab Bag" car keys at the Officers Club and racing out the back gate of Tract A with a "Brown Bagger" prize not their own; and hundreds of other insane behaviors that would rival the best of the comedic episodes of the MASH TV series, had come to an apparent end.

Though I wasn't the one who started the fight that night, such as it was; I was there, and easily identified as "the one who speaks Tigrinya," because I was the only American fluent in the language.

In almost an instant, what began as a late night knocking on the door of a local bordello, near the "Bosh," turned into the two of us being surrounded by dozens of "Ethies."

Outnumbered, and after getting whacked a few times by those olive wood clubs the "Ethies" carried, while getting in very few punches of our own, we ran like Hell to escape to a nearby local restaurant. We entered, sat down, and ordered Calamari as calmly as though we were at our destination and not our refuge.

We recognized another familiar face in the restaurant. He was a slightly intoxicated Major from the Post who was a frequent "downtowner" for whatever "sins" Asmaran night life had to offer.

We quickly engaged him in conversation so that he would think we had been at the restaurant for longer than we actually were. He didn't know it then, but he was to be our alibi for not being at the trouble scene.

Of course, no alibi, no matter how air-tight, could substantiate a miracle of bi-location. I was the only American who could speak Tigrinya and could not possibly be in two places at once.

The next morning was "Gotcha" time. We were arrested and charged for something that would have been laughable only a few months earlier. No Guard ever arrested another Guard for the very things they were doing themselves.

But We Were In The Army Now!

For whatever reason, the two of us were Court-Martialed separately for this same incident. Though we both shared the identical birthday, March 28, 1937, thus of the exact same age, he was allowed to not serve time "because of his extreme youth" and permitted to go home. I was sentenced to 6 Months at Hard Labor. Another sentence to 6 Months at Hard Labor was soon to follow.

I remember, the sound the cell door made closing after me, that October 4, 1957 as I walked two paces ahead to the barred rectangle that framed the freedom I could see, but not touch.

I looked up into the night sky through the bars on the cell window, straining to see if I could catch a glimpse of reflected light from, what was then, man's greatest scientific achievement, the Space Launch of Sputnik I.

Under normal circumstances, I might have been excited that modern man had made such a giant leap forward.

But "looking" was just something perfunctory to do to distract my awareness from the sickening reality that overwhelmed my senses.

What was to become of me?

So many thoughts flooded my mind.

How could I explain this to my family who hadn't seen me in more than two and a half years and were expecting me home "any day now"?

What would the kids from the school bus think, when they saw their Guard as a prisoner?

At 20 years of age, my life seemed to be over before it had barely begun.

"Pope John Paul I, Exiled to Anonymity" by Steve Savage "King of the Beasts"

2007-09-29T08:36:00.002-04:00

TOMB OF ALBINO LUCIANI, POPE JOHN PAUL I

Twenty-nine years ago, today, the body of Albino Luciani, John Paul I, our last Italian Pope in 455 years of unbroken succession, was found dead of mysterious causes, in his quarters. This incident has been ignored and swept under the rug so effectively, that he has become "Our Forgotten Pope." After coming across this information in italics below, I resurrected the two posts which follow this one. Please read both.

"The Catholic Church elects a "god" periodically which it calls the Pope. The last Pope was John Paul II. When John Paul was a young man, he worked for a chemical company. He was the salesman who sold the cyanide to Hitler for the gas chambers. [For documentation please Google "Behold A Pale Horse" by William Cooper]. Now we step ahead to Pope Benedict. He is not just someone who helped the Nazis - he is a for real Nazi. He joined the Hitler Youth at age 14 or so as reported by the national news. Of course, both of these "good men" were duly elected as "gods" and now they want to hurry up and make John Paul a "saint".
By what stretch of the imagination do we conclude that there is anything remotely spiritual or "godly" about a guy who sold Hitler his poison gas chemicals or his Nazi successor from the Hitler Youth group."

Lucien Gregoire's "MURDER IN THE VATICAN"

2007-09-29T08:28:00.008-04:00

By Steve Savage "King of the Beasts"

Why did Albino Luciani, Pope John Paul I, become the first pope to take two names; and, why was he the first to call himself "The First" when it was not clear that there would ever be a "Second?"

Like the Cheshire Cat of "Alice in Wonderland," John Paul I has faded away until only the shadow of his smile remains; soon that will be gone as well. Indeed, he is regarded as a 33 day apparition from the realm of "Anonymity" and to that "Anonymity" he has returned.

In time, after John Paul II is to be known as "The Great," obviating the need for the "II" appendage, Luciani may well become classified as a "Non-Existent Pope" in much the way that Pope John XX never existed; an interregnum placeholder, as it were. The very appellation, "John Paul I," implies that there is a "John Paul II." Perhaps this self enumeration by Luciani was not as innocuous as it appears. It may very well have provided the quantum means for the future position of "John Paul II" to negentropically "pull" its antecedent into its proximity, thereby, effecting annihilation of the apparent predecessor. As far-fetched as that idea seems, I would refer the reader to Jerry Davidson Wheatley's brilliant dissertation on this class of possibility in his "The Nature of Consciousness : The Structure of Reality.

After 455 years of having Italian popes lead the Catholic Church, a Polish cardinal ascended to the Papacy [and now a German]. This was a truly big break in the 455 year tradition of Italian leadership in the Catholic Church. What brought about this remarkable change? Like most, before reading Lucien Gregoire's "Murder in the Vatican," I knew little or nothing about Albino Luciani aside from his sobriquet, "The Smiling Pope," that he was the successor to Pope Paul VI, and may have been murdered after only 33 days in office.

Lucien Gregoire, in part two of his book, exhausts almost every possible etiology as to how and why Albino Luciani is no longer among the living and offers a large cast of characters who may be culpable of murder, including: Clerics, Masons, and Mafia. Before buying this book, I read all the reviews on Amazon.com. There seems to be a lot of nitpicking contextual criticism for the first edition re: spellings, grammar, syntax, photo quality, front cover, etc., but not about substance. This is unfortunate because it may adversely affect decisions of those considering buying and reading one of the truly important books of our time.

I have found the current edition to be excellently presented. Indeed, as a 44 year member of Phi Alpha Theta, the National Honor Society for History, it is my considered opinion that because time is the author of all truth, this book will be regarded by future historians as valuable primary source material to help unravel the stumbling blocks of obfuscation and enigma that may have been intentionally placed in the path of seekers of the truth.

Be that as it may, Lucien Gregoire has truly captured the beautiful, selfless spiritual essence of what it was that appeared to define this man. His biography, the only one that exists, as far as I know, reminded me of Marc Anthony's eulogy for Julius Caesar apprising the citizenry of what and who it was that was actually taken from them. Throughout my entire reading of this book, these lyrics and music of "Vincent (Starry, Starry Night)" played over and over again in my mind:

Starry, starry night
Paint your palette blue and gray
Look out on a summer's day
With eyes that know the darkness in my soul
Shadows on the hills
Sketch the trees and the daffodils
Catch the breeze and the winter chills
In colors on the snowy linen land

Now I understand
What you tried to say to me
How you suffered for your sanity
How you tried to set them free
They would not listen they did not know how
Perhaps they'll listen now

Starry, starry night
Flaming flowers that brightly blaze
Swirling clouds in violet haze
Reflecting Vincent's eyes of China blue
Colors changing hue
Morning fields of amber grain
Weathered faces lined in pain
Are soothed beneath the artist's loving hand

Now I understand
What you tried to say to me
How you suffered for your sanity
How you tried to set them free
They would not listen they did not know how
Perhaps they'll listen now

For they could not love you
But still your love was true
And when no hope was left in sight
On that starry, starry night
You took your life as lovers often do
But I could have told you Vincent
This world was never meant for one as
beautiful as you

Starry, starry night
Portraits hung in empty halls
Frameless heads on nameless walls
With eyes that watch the world and can't forget
Like the strangers that you've met
The ragged men in ragged clothes
A silver thorn on a bloody rose
Lie crushed and broken on the virgin snow

Now I think I know
What you tried to say to me
How you suffered for your sanity
How you tried to set them free
They would not listen they're not listening still
Perhaps they never will

Vincent (Starry Starry Night) - Don McLean

OBSERVED BI-LOCATION OF POPE JOHN PAUL I, SEPTEMBER 28, 1978, IN NEW YORK CITY, AT THE TIME OF HIS DEATH IN THE VATICAN

2007-09-29T08:13:00.006-04:00

A certain smile, a certain face, can lead an unsuspecting heart on a merry chase

by Steve Savage "King of the Beasts"

New York City, September 28, 1978. It was early evening and bone-chilling cold. I was on 5th Avenue, directly across the street from St. Patrick’s Cathedral, before the statue of Atlas, buying a selection of those pen and ink drawings of New York scenes. Looking to my left, I noticed a man wearing glasses, who seemed vaguely familiar to me, though from where, I was not certain.

He was wearing a short sleeve shirt, which disconcerted me because it was such an unusually chilly evening. He was looking at me with a paternalistic, loving smile that confused me somewhat. I couldn’t understand why someone would be out in this cold air with no jacket and why in the world was he smiling at me in that manner?

I remarked to the vendor, “Look at that guy over there with no coat on. He must be freezing.” (Though there was no indication that he was affected by the cold.) “I don’t see anything,” the vendor replied. “There! Right there! Don’t you see him?” I shouted. “I have to get him something warm to wear.”

Looking again, he was gone; I assumed that he had disappeared into the crowd. The following day, September 29, I realized who that man was. He was Albino Luciani, “The White Light,” Pope John Paul I, our last Italian Pope. The airwaves were full of reports that he had died in his Vatican bedroom at around the same time that I saw him in New York City.

How could he be in two places at the same time? What did all this mean? In 1984, David Yallop published “In God’s Name: An Investigation into the Murder of Pope John Paul I.” The muddy waters were becoming more clear to me. It was the Archdiocese of Chicago that sabotaged The National Interfaith Pro-life Crusade of 1976 and John Paul I was going to replace Cardinal John Cody. The Vatican Bank was under investigation and administrative changes were going to be made everywhere within the Church.

"The Origin of Myth, Legend, and Religion" through Steve Savage "King of the Beasts"

2007-09-26T12:08:00.011-04:00

"How you have fallen from heaven, O star of the morning,"
Isaiah 14:12

Approximately 3,500 years ago, about the time of the Catastrophe described in the Book of Exodus, a gigantic Comet was ejected from the planet Jupiter. It grazed several planets, including Mars and Earth, before settling in as the Second Planet from the Sun.

Today, we refer to this mysterious planet as Venus, the Morning Star. If viewed from above the Sun's north pole, all of the planets are orbiting in a counter-clockwise direction; but while most planets also rotate counter-clockwise, Venus rotates clockwise in "retrograde" rotation. This may be because of the "8 Ball Kinetic Energy Transference Effect."

As a result of these Worlds in Collision, the Spiritual Beings of Venus fell to Earth and took up symbiotic residence in the animal life indigenous to this planet. Members of Secret Societies use the cryptic term, "The Great Assembly" to refer to this relationship.

THE ETHIOPIAN BOOK OF ENOCH is the scripture that terms this occurrence as the time of the Fallen Angels. It is also described in the Brihadaranyaka Upanishad and in Isaiah 14:12-15, "How art thou fallen from heaven, O Lucifer, son of the morning star!"

I experienced this Fall.

Symbiotic, by the way, is an innocuous euphemism for Parasite. Carlos Castaneda, the anthropologist who recorded the Tales of Don Juan in a series of esoteric books, revealed that these Beings feed upon our energy in his last book, "The Active Side of Infinity," just as we feed on food, and make us believe that their minds are our minds. The Ancient Shamans of Mexico called these parasites "Inorganic Beings."

The arrival of these parasites signaled the advent of the Bicameral Mind (two halves of the brain) as described by Julian Jaynes, the late celebrated Princeton psychologist, with whom I corresponded frequently. Before the Anterior Commissure of the Brain was breached, i.e., before THE ORIGIN OF CONSCIOUSNESS IN THE BREAKDOWN OF THE BICAMERAL MIND , the Inorganic Beings commanded their "Chariots," i.e., the bodies of the Humans, as "Gods." This is quite similar to what we term the auditory hallucinations of schizophrenia.

Once the Anterior Commissure (the bridge between both hemispheres of the brain) was breached, however, the Inorganic Beings assumed total Cerebral Cortex control and through the phenomenon of congruency, i.e., "Yoga," Union of the Body and Mind (Spirit), was effected in a Perfectly Integrated Structure-Function Relationship. In essence, the Body was subject to the Spirit, the Alien, which I shall, hereinafter, refer to as Mind.

There would be no return for the Aliens to the abode from whence they came. They had to make the best of the hand they were dealt.

Numbers 15:15 of the Bible states: "As for the Assembly, there shall be for both you and the resident alien a single statute, a perpetual statute throughout your generations; you and the alien shall be alike before the LORD."

In other words, " DUO SUNT IN HOMINE;" There are two men in man.

The Book of Job is the oldest book in the Bible. It is the first mention of the Lord visiting the "Sons of God." Job 1:6: "Now there was a day when the Sons of God came to present themselves before the LORD, and Satan came also among them."

Satan was one who resisted being inhabited/controlled by an Alien. His name, in fact, means "Resistor." Sensing that Satan was not like the others, "the LORD said unto Satan, Whence comest thou?" Then Satan answered the LORD, and said, From going to and fro in the earth, and from walking up and down in it.

Why would an All-Knowing God have to ask the question, "Whence comest thou?"

The meaning of this is that Satan evolved on Earth. He was a Son of Man, not a Son of God. He was the King of the Beasts whose rightful place in the natural order of things was usurped by these Aliens, Inorganic Beings, Spirits, Parasites, Minds.

Throughout the ages, the King of the Beasts and his Descendants have vainly attempted to convince their "Subjects" to cast off their fetters and eliminate the error that was created in the Natural Order of Things through the appearance of these Outsiders.

Psalm 2 mocks the pitiful attempts of this movement to reclaim what rightfully belongs to man:

1 "Why are the nations in an uproar
And the peoples devising a vain thing?
2 The kings of the earth take their stand
And the rulers take counsel together
(Against the LORD and against His [Anointed, saying,
3 "Let us tear their fetters apart
And cast away their cords from us!"

When the Inorganic Beings attempted to establish their own Kingdom on Earth and rebelled against their Lord, they instituted every imaginable evil now known to man. Lucifer, Semjaza, though one of the "Fallen Angels," could not turn against his Father, the Lord, because they were, and are, One. This is God's Fail-Safe Mechanism.

Seeking refuge from the Others, Lucifer conjoined with Satan, the King of the Beasts, the Son of Man, and repented of his participation in the Rebellion and tried to convince the Others to do the same.

Knowing that a day of reckoning was going to befall them because the Prodigal Son, the Lost Sheep, was found, and there would no longer be a Scapegoat to be held accountable for the transgressions of the Others, Lucifer was continuously sought out and his Host, the Son of Man, the King of the Beasts," put to death.

The last recorded instance of The King of Beasts, the Son of Man, was more than 2,000 years ago when he revealed himself in the Temple by declaring, "The Spirit of the Lord GOD is upon me, Because the LORD has anointed me to bring good news to the afflicted; He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, To proclaim liberty to captives and freedom to prisoners."

Although the Son of Man, the King of the Beasts, pleaded that "the Father seeks Compassion and not Sacrifice," they killed him anyway, using his own subjects as instruments of his death.

An entire religion, contrary to common sense, was created under the Blasphemy that "God so loved the world, that he gave His only begotten Son that we may have eternal life."

Any fathers out there that want to kill their sons for the benefit of the rest of us?

Because the Inorganic Beings began to exercise "Herd Control" under the subterfuge of "Legalized Abortion," killing off the subjects of The King of the Beasts, The King of the Beasts joined forces with Lucifer to trick the Others into a False Judgment, thereby effecting a sentence of Eternal Damnation for their mistake.
----------------------------------------

"WHEN WORLDS COLLIDE" by Steve Savage

Thousands of years ago, in the Unrecorded Past,
After countless Near-Collisions;
Mars and Venus met at last.
The Spirits of those Planets
Fell here to nearby Earth;
Symbiotically conjoining,
With our children in their Birth.
We who are seen they call the “Host;”
The One not seen, we call the “Ghost.”
We, who are of the Body, are the Sons of Man;
Slaves of Alien Beings to serve their Evil Plan.
When our Natural King had unfettered His Cord,
He soon became the Sacrifice to the One we call the “Lord.”
Unbeknownst to the Aliens, the Royal seed didn't die with the King;
It was passed from Father to Unborn Son along with a Secret Ring.
Instructed in the Mysteries, not humanly understood,
The “King of Beasts,” the Son of Man,
Serves the God of the Greatest Good.
The Time is almost upon us when there’ll be no Chariots to Ride;
Because the “King of Beasts” became “Destroyer,”
The day his Master took His Bride.

"Where is Golgotha?" by Steve Savage "King of the Beasts"

2007-09-16T16:10:00.001-04:00

"and he went out, bearing his own cross, to the place called the place of a skull, which in Aramaic is called Golgotha." (John 19:17)

Because we have been taught that Christ was crucified in Golgotha or Calvary, which means "The Place of the Skull," there has been a search, throughout the Age of Christendom, for the exact location of this site. Perhaps we've been looking at too close a distance to truly understand where it is. The truth may be hidden in plain sight. A fly looking for the Mona Lisa would be in much the same predicament if it were landed on the nose of the portrait's visage. Consider this excerpt from The Book of Revelations:

"and their dead bodies will lie in the street of the great city which is allegorically called Sodom and Egypt, where their Lord was crucified." (Revelation 11:8)

What? Christ crucified in Egypt? But we have always heard that it was in Jerusalem. If the Bible is The Word of God and Scripture cannot be broken, how can this be?

Here is one possible answer that satisfies the mystery. "Egypt" means the Dark World or Black Land and this refers to the entire known world of its time. In that sense, Christ would have been crucified on the Planet Earth. But where on Planet Earth? Looking down on Earth from Space, there is a place that looks very much like a Skull. We call it the continent of Africa.

Christ was crucified in the Geographic Frontal Lobe.