This just gets funnier and funnier.
I debated briefly to not make this note but it's just so damned funny. A picture is worth a thousand words, goes the well-known saying, and I am highlighting only a small portion of it here in my blog.
And it's funny - well, maybe not so funny, all things considered - because of the corroborating observations I am making with disparate sources.
As I here, listening to Amazon Prime music in the background and remembering the reasons I stopped listening to live music radio stations, wondered earlier: the preparation for The Horrible Truth to be revealed to me at some point? Some person appears to me somewhere, when I am predictably - predictably to the people lurking outside around me everywhere I go outside, shadowing me and reporting my movements to their masters - outside walking somewhere I usually go. A person steps from an automobile, time for you to hear, Kerry, The Horrible Truth.
Conversely, among others, I have wondered the notion that I am The Last Starfighter.
The technology, I have postulated here before in so many words, with the ability to communicate directly with my brain and to cause thoughts to form in my mind, technology beyond human - primitives all on this monkey-human Earth - comprehension. So it has to know me.
But why the distribution source with a business interface to customers? Must be the front for the organization. Ah. Of course. "NCIS" is a business also. So why not use a gift shop too for delivering part of the message to me.
Besides, none of their customers are actually reading my blog. I am still not even certain that my blog is actually available to most people on the internet. My guess has been always that only certain people are receiving my broadcasts.
I haven't put more work into "Believe It Or Not" today. That's the title for a big post I am planning to make at some point in the near future. Not that it will matter.
I really like this book.
So, then there's more. Here's the way it went down: I opened a new blogger window for this post. I pasted in the content. I was giving the post a title. About that time, just after I pasted in the content, all except for this paragraph and the last part of this post that's here now, which is the group Lovelytheband, their song started playing on Amazon Prime music. Left a strange impression in my head.
The Passage: A Novel (Book One of The Passage Trilogy)
Justin Cronin
page 656 of 881 (Amazon Kindle Version)
The boy isn't dumb. I tell you, he's been *struck* dumb.
He was happy, so happy, he'd never felt such happiness in his life as the knife passed into her, the white skin of her throat, the smooth outer layer and the hard gristle below. And as he dug and pushed with his blade, the love he felt for her lifted from his mind so that he could see what she was at last - that she was a being of flesh and blood and bone. All her words and talk-talk-talk moving inside him, filling him up to bursting. They tasted like blood in his mouth, sweet living things.
They sent him away. He wasn't a boy after all, he was a man; he was a man with a mind and a knife, and they told him to die - die, Babcock, for what you have done.
He didn't want to die, not then, not ever. And after - after the man, Wolgast, had come to where he was, like a thing foretold; and after the doctors and the sickness and the Becoming, that he should be one of Twelve, the Babock-Morrison-Chavez-Baffes-Turrell-Winston-Sosa-Echols-Lambright-Martinez-Reinhardt-Carter - one of Twelve and also the Other, the Zero - he had taken the rest the same way, drinking their words from them, their dying cries like soft morsels in his mouth. And the ones he did not kill but merely sipped, the one of ten, as the tide of his own blood dictated, became his own, joining to him in mind. His children. His great and fearful company. The Many. The We of Babcock.
instagram_blue-tree_10-28-2018-1.jpg
from my private journal as Kerry Burgess: 04/12/11 12:16 PM
Okay, this is the first good match I can find without giving away too many details by research on the internet. Even now, I was thinking, I am giving those thieving mobsters a lot of clues by describing how I research my test case. All they have to do is to watch my internet activity and they know I am working up a test case.
from 2:45 PM 10 May 2008 to 12:45 PM 12 April 2011 is 25606 hours.
From 9/24/1895 ( Andre Frederic Cournand ) To 11/2/1965 ( ) is 25606 days
[JOURNAL ARCHIVE 12 April 2011 excerpt ends]
JOURNAL ARCHIVE: 04/12/11 12:23 PM
Okay, my next scheduled test is 12:45 PM 12 April 2011 and I will listen to FM 102.5 Seattle Washington radio for the information that is broadcast during that minute and I will listen for any details that seem to have a significant association to this test case as another test of time travel communication of which I have not been keeping count of the number of tests I have carried out so far. I need to go back and make a count.
[JOURNAL ARCHIVE 12 April 2011 excerpt ends]
JOURNAL ARCHIVE: 04/12/11 12:44 PM
About 12:44:05 PM the song "I got something to say to you that might cause you pain" has started playing.
you can't do that
let you down and leave you flat
JOURNAL ARCHIVE: 04/12/11 12:45 PM
On FM 102.5 Seattle Washington radio at 12:45:00 PM I hear the specific lyrics:
cause I'm the one who won your love
[JOURNAL ARCHIVE 12 April 2011 excerpt ends]
http://www.nobelprize.org/nobel_prizes/medicine/laureates/1956/cournand-facts.html
Nobelprize.org
The Official Web Site of the Nobel Prize
The Nobel Prize in Physiology or Medicine 1956
André F. Cournand, Werner Forssmann, Dickinson W. Richards
Born: 24 September 1895, Paris, France
Died: 19 February 1988, Great Barrington, MA, USA
Affiliation at the time of the award: Columbia University Division, Cardio-Pulmonary Laboratory, Bellevue Hospital, New York, NY, USA
Prize motivation: "for their discoveries concerning heart catheterization and pathological changes in the circulatory system"
Field: cardiovascular physiology
album: "Finding It Hard to Smile" (2018)
https://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/lovelytheband/thesearemyfriends.html
AZ
Lovelytheband
"These Are My Friends"
These are my friends
I love them, I love them
These are my friends
I love them, I love them
I wish I was a little more loved
Tryna find a way to fix that
So many people inside my head
Momma taught me not to talk back
But they're pretty good company
They cheer me up when I feel bad
Is it my insecurities
That keep me going?
These are my friends
I love them, I love them
These are my friends
I love them, I love them
And they don't care who you are
They don't care what you do, no
These are my friends
I love them, I love them
My heart and I don't get along
It's something that I'm sad about
Everybody needs a pick me up
But I should prolly slow it down
But it's pretty good company
It cheers me up when I feel bad
These are my insecurities
That keep me going
These are my friends
I love them, I love them
These are my friends
I love them, I love them
And they don't care who you are
They don't care what you do, no
These are my friends
I love them, I love them
We are the weirdos
Inflated egos
The filthy misbehave
The ones you dream of
The ones you can't shake
Living in your brain
These are my friends
I love them, I love them
These are my friends
I love them, I love them
And they don't care who you are
They don't care what you do, no
These are my friends
I love them, I love them
- posted by Kerry Burgess 10:01 AM Pacific Time Spokane Valley Washington USA Tuesday 30 October 2018
