OSAMA BIN LADEN IS DEAD ACCORDING TO BHUTTO

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?

Osama Bin Laden was killed years ago [Benazir Bhutto]

OUR GREAT HISTORICAL DOCUMENTS ARE FALLING INTO PRIVATE OWNERSHIP by Steve Savage "King of the Beasts"

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"

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.
Oh Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling
From glen to glen, and down the mountainside
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

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"

Oh, is the anniversary of Pearl Harbor here already? It comes and goes so quickly and without much fanfare these days. 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 mustn'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 anymore; 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"

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 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 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 highest magnitude, Lou was dyslexic, spoke in malapropisms, 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

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"

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 1890s and I was Chief Lifeguard through the 1960s. 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 own greedy, personal gain. Through the 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"


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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.]
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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.

"THANKSGIVING PRAYER" by Steve Savage "King of the Beasts"

[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"

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.

"CONGRATULATIONS TO DONALD LEE HARDY, KNIGHT COMMANDER OF THE COURT OF HONOR" by Steve Savage "King of the Beasts"

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"

[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 7.8 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"

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 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)

[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"

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 a 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 Stockade 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 several weeks of Odyssey 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"

Me, Rt., AGE 20, GHINDA OUTPOST, ERITREA, SEPTEMBER 1957


GUARDHOUSE, KAGNEW STATION, ASMARA, ERITREA

[NOTE: The purpose of 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 84 plus 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 stil.]

The world changed sixty-four years ago.

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.

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 was 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 nightlife 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"

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"

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 Murder In The Vatican: The Revolutionary Life Of John Paul And The CIA, Opus Dei And The 1978 Murders by Lucien Gregoire, 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

"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"

"How you have fallen from heaven, O star of the morning,"
Isaiah 14:12


 “For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the powers, against the world forces of this darkness, against the spiritual forces of wickedness in the heavenly places.” -Ephesians 6:12

"We are part of a symbiotic relationship with something which disguises itself as an extra-terrestrial invasion so as not to alarm us." - Terence McKenna  

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.