by me, Kerry Burgess, 01/29/2026 2:43 PM
Clearly CLEARLY a staged act of violence by that scumbag Alex Pretti.
And look at how he got those rabble roused and their acts of violence with their whistles.
They should certainly be fined and or jailed for such disturbance of the peace with the intent to inflict damage on the operations of federal workers.
Those monkeys in Minnesota will never learn. Gullible rabble so easy to manipulate into senseless violence against the government and against peaceful order.
Alex Pretti is prancing around melodramatically and smashing government property.
The dumbass is violent and raging and while carrying a firearm
Clearly, that dumbass was inciting riot purposely
Carrying a firearm and screaming that he is tech-savvy enough to know that his iPhone does contain photographic-film
https://www.yahoo.com/news/us/article/new-videos-show-alex-pretti-in-confrontation-with-federal-agents-in-minneapolis-11-days-before-he-was-killed-162253349.html
Yahoo News
New videos show Alex Pretti in confrontation with federal agents in Minneapolis 11 days before he was killed
The footage [sic] shows him being thrown to the ground after kicking out the taillight of an unmarked SUV.
Dylan Stableford, Reporter
Updated Thu, January 29, 2026 at 8:27 AM PST 3 min read
In one video of the Jan. 13 incident posted online Wednesday, Pretti is seen shouting and spitting at an unmarked SUV with flashing lights. As the vehicle begins to move away, he kicks out one of its taillights.
When Pretti gets up, the person filming [sic] the incident approaches him and asks if he is OK. “I’m OK,” Pretti replies. “Are we all OK? Are we all safe?”
From 5/8/1994 ( premiere USA TV miniseries "Stephen King's The Stand"::miniseries premiere "The Plague" ) To 1/13/2026 ( ) is 11573 days
From 11/2/1965 ( my known birth date in Antlers, Oklahoma, USA, as Kerry Wayne Burgess ) To 7/10/1997 ( premiere USA TV series episode "Ancient Mysteries"::"The Black Death" ) is 11573 days
From 5/4/2005 ( the incident at the police department City of Kent Washington State after my voluntary approach to report material criminal activity directed against my person and I am secretly drugged against my consent ) To 1/13/2026 ( ) is 7559 days
From 11/2/1965 ( my known birth date in Antlers, Oklahoma, USA, as Kerry Wayne Burgess ) To 7/14/1986 ( premiere USA film "Aliens" ) is 7559 days
The Stand - complete edition, by Stephen King, author
(from internet transcript)
excerpt, Chapter 1
“That ain’t necessarily how it would be,” Hap said weightily from the depths of his ninth-grade education. He went on to explain why.
Stu, who only understood that they were in a hell of a pinch, tuned Hap’s voice down to a meaningless drone and watched the Chevy pitch and yaw its way on up the road. The way it was going Stu didn’t think it was going to make it much farther. It crossed the white line and its lefthand tires spurned up dust from the left shoulder. Now it lurched back, held its own lane briefly, then nearly pitched off into the ditch. Then, as if the driver had picked out the big lighted Texaco station sign as a beacon, it arrowed toward the tarmac like a projectile whose velocity is very nearly spent. Stu could hear the worn-out thump of its engine now, the steady gurgle-and-wheeze of a dying carb and a loose set of valves. It missed the lower entrance and bumped up over the curb. The fluorescent bars over the pumps were reflecting off the Chevy’s dirt-streaked windshield so it was hard to see what was inside, but Stu saw the vague shape of the driver roll loosely with the bump. The car showed no sign of slowing from its relentless fifteen.
“So I say with more money in circulation you’d be—”
“Better turn off your pumps, Hap,” Stu said mildly.
“The pumps? What?”
Norm Bruett had turned to look out the window. “Christ on a pony,” he said.
Stu got out of his chair, leaned over Tommy Wannamaker and Hank Carmichael, and flicked off all eight switches at once, four with each hand. So he was the only one who didn’t see the Chevy as it hit the gas pumps on the upper island and sheared them off.
It plowed into them with a slowness that seemed implacable and somehow grand. Tommy Wannamaker swore in the Indian Head the next day that the taillights never flashed once. The Chevy just kept coming at a steady fifteen or so, like the pace car in the Tournament of Roses parade. The undercarriage screeched over the concrete island, and when the wheels hit it everyone but Stu saw the driver’s head swing limply and strike the windshield, starring the glass.
The Chevy jumped like an old dog that had been kicked and plowed away the hi-test pump. It snapped off and rolled away, spilling a few dribbles of gas. The nozzle came unhooked and lay glittering under the fluorescents.
They all saw the sparks produced by the Chevy’s exhaust pipe grating across the cement, and Hap, who had seen a gas station explosion in Mexico, instinctively shielded his eyes against the fireball he expected. Instead, the Chevy’s rear end flirted around and fell off the pump island on the station side. The front end smashed into the low-lead pump, knocking it off with a hollow bang.
Almost deliberately, the Chevrolet finished its 360-degree turn, hitting the island again, broadside this time. The rear end popped up on the island and knocked the regular gas pump asprawl. And there the Chevy came to rest, trailing its rusty exhaust pipe behind it. It had destroyed all three of the gas pumps on that island nearest the highway. The motor continued to run choppily for a few seconds and then quit. The silence was so loud it was alarming.
“Holy moly,” Tommy Wannamaker said breathlessly. “Will she blow, Hap?”
“If it was gonna, it already woulda,” Hap said, getting up. His shoulder bumped the map case, scattering Texas, New Mexico, and Arizona every whichway. Hap felt a cautious sort of jubilation. His pumps were insured, and the insurance was paid up. Mary had harped on the insurance ahead of everything.
“Guy must have been pretty drunk,” Norm said.
“I seen his taillights,” Tommy said, his voice high with excitement. “They never flashed once. Holy moly! If he’d a been doing sixty we’d all be dead now.”
They hurried out of the office, Hap first and Stu bringing up the rear. Hap, Tommy, and Norm reached the car together. They could smell gas and hear the slow, clocklike tick of the Chevy’s cooling engine. Hap opened the driver’s side door and the man behind the wheel spilled out like an old laundry sack.
“God-damn,” Norm Bruett shouted, almost screamed. He turned away, clutched his ample belly, and was sick. It wasn’t the man who had fallen out (Hap had caught him neatly before he could thump to the pavement) but the smell that was issuing from the car, a sick stench compounded of blood, fecal matter, vomit, and human decay. It was a ghastly rich sick-dead smell.
A moment later Hap turned away, dragging the driver by the armpits. Tommy hastily grabbed the dragging feet and he and Hap carried him into the office. In the glow of the overhead fluorescents their faces were cheesy-looking and revolted. Hap had forgotten about his insurance money.
The others looked into the car and then Hank turned away, one hand over his mouth, little finger sticking off like a man who has just raised his wineglass to make a toast. He trotted to the north end of the station’s lot and let his supper come up.
Vic and Stu looked into the car for some time, looked at each other, and then looked back in. On the passenger side was a young woman, her shift dress hiked up high on her thighs. Leaning against her was a boy or girl, about three years old. They were both dead. Their necks had swelled up like inner tubes and the flesh there was a purple-black color, like a bruise. The flesh was puffed up under their eyes, too. They looked, Vic later said, like those baseball players who put lampblack under their eyes to cut the glare. Their eyes bulged sightlessly. The woman was holding the child’s hand. Thick mucus had run from their noses and was now clotted there. Flies buzzed around them; lighting in the mucus, crawling in and out of their open mouths. Stu had been in the war, but he had never seen anything so terribly pitiful as this. His eyes were constantly drawn back to those linked hands.
He and Vic backed away together and looked blankly at each other. Then they turned to the station. They could see Hap, jawing frantically into the pay phone. Norm was walking toward the station behind them, throwing glances at the wreck over his shoulder. The Chevy’s driver’s side door stood sadly open. There was a pair of baby shoes dangling from the rearview mirror.
Hank was standing by the door, rubbing his mouth with a dirty handkerchief. “Jesus, Stu,” he said unhappily, and Stu nodded.
Hap hung up the phone. The Chevy’s driver was lying on the floor. “Ambulance will be here in ten minutes. Do you figure they’re—?” He jerked his thumb at the Chevy.
“They’re dead, okay.” Vic nodded. His lined face was yellow-pale, and he was sprinkling tobacco all over the floor as he tried to make one of his shitty-smelling cigarettes. “They’re the two deadest people I’ve ever seen.” He looked at Stu and Stu nodded, putting his hands in his pockets. He had the butterflies.
The man on the floor moaned thickly in his throat and they all looked down at him. After a moment, when it became obvious that the man was speaking or trying very hard to speak, Hap knelt beside him. It was, after all, his station.
Whatever had been wrong with the woman and child in the car was also wrong with this man. His nose was running freely, and his respiration had a peculiar undersea sound, a churning from somewhere in his chest. The flesh beneath his eyes was puffing, not black yet, but a bruised purple. His neck looked too thick, and the flesh had pushed up in a column to give him two extra chins. He was running a high fever; being close to him was like squatting on the edge of an open barbecue pit where good coals have been laid.
“The dog,” he muttered. “Did you put him out?”
“Mister,” Hap said, shaking him gently. “I called the ambulance. You’re going to be all right.”
“Clock went red,” the man on the floor grunted, and then began to cough, racking chainlike explosions that sent heavy mucus spraying from his mouth in long and ropy splatters. Hap leaned backward, grimacing desperately.
“Better roll him over,” Vic said. “He’s goan choke on it.”
But before they could, the coughing tapered off into bellowsed, uneven breathing again. His eyes blinked slowly and he looked at the men gathered above him.
“Where’s… this?”
“Arnette,” Hap said. “Bill Hapscomb’s Texaco. You crashed out some of my pumps.” And then, hastily, he added: “That’s okay. They was insured.”
The man on the floor tried to sit up and was unable. He had to settle for putting a hand on Hap’s arm.
“My wife… my little girl…”
“They’re fine,” Hap said, grinning a foolish dog grin.
“Seems like I’m awful sick,” the man said. Breath came in and out of him in a thick, soft roar. “They, were sick, too. Since we got up two days ago. Salt Lake City…” His eyes flickered slowly closed. “Sick… guess we didn’t move quick enough after all…”
Far off but getting closer, they could hear the whoop of the Arnette Volunteer Ambulance.
“Man,” Tommy Wannamaker said. “Oh man.”
The sick man’s eyes fluttered open again, and now they were filled with an intense, sharp concern. He struggled again to sit up. Sweat ran down his face. He grabbed Hap.
“Are Sally and Baby LaVon all right?” he demanded. Spittle flew from his lips and Hap could feel the man’s burning heat radiating outward. The man was sick, half crazy, he stank. Hap was reminded of the smell an old dog blanket gets sometimes.
“They’re all right,” he insisted, a little frantically. “You just… lay down and take it easy, okay?”
The man lay back down. His breathing was rougher now. Hap and Hank helped roll him over on his side, and his respiration seemed to ease a trifle. “I felt pretty good until last night,” he said. “Coughing, but all right. Woke up with it in the night. Didn’t get away quick enough. Is Baby LaVon okay?”
The last trailed off into something none of them could make out. The ambulance siren warbled closer and closer. Stu went over to the window to watch for it. The others remained in a circle around the man on the floor.
“What’s he got, Vic, any idea?” Hap asked.
by me, Kerry Burgess, APRIL 18, 2012
A few minutes ago I was standing in the bathroom washing my hands and I suddenly thought to look in the mirror at the top of my left shoulder.
from my private journal, as me, Kerry Burgess, typed after being released from the USA Veterans Affairs psychiatric hospital enduring many months sitting in a grungy two-computer room in a homeless shelter on the waterfront in downtown Seattle:
From: Kerry Burgess
To: Kerry Burgess
Sent: Tue, May 16, 2006 5:55:42 PM
Subject: Re: I don't know if I am winning or losing an effort by the Borg to assimilate my mind.
And what memories are real and what memories are manipulated?
The Walking Dead - "Days Gone Bye" - television series premiere episode - season 1 episode 1 - Sunday 31 October 2010
(from internet transcript)
Bedroom - House
Rick wakes up in a house and sees Duane with a baseball bat.
Morgan: Got that bandage changed out. It was pretty rank. What was? The wound?
Rick: Gun shot.
Morgan: Gun shot? What else? Anything?
Rick: Gun shot ain't enough?
Mission To Mars (2000)
Eighty percent atmosphere.
Jim, you've got to go get your spare helmet. Copy that, Jim?
There's no time. All the systems have crashed. I gotta shut down the hab from below.
We're losing pressure, Jim. You could embolize.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6PQctK-MOiE
STS-58 Columbia Mission (1993)
Cape Canaveral Space Force Museum
from my private journal as Kerry Burgess: 08/26/07 8:09 AM
I've had several dreams where something was wrong with my chest, as though I had a broken bone in my chest, a broken rib in my upper chest.
IMDb
Red Dawn (1984)
Quotes
Col. Andy Tanner: Infiltrators came up illegal from Mexico. Cubans mostly. They managed to infiltrate SAC bases in the Midwest, several down in Texas and wreaked a hell of a lot of havoc, I'm here to tell you. They opened up the door down here, and the whole Cuban and Nicaraguan and Latin American armies come walking right through
- by me, Kerry Wayne Burgess, posted by me: 3:37 PM Pacific-timezone USA Thursday 01/29/2026
