Cold, windy, rainy afternoon. I’m taking a nap under the covers. As I wake I hear a voice speak my name. It’s my Father’s voice. I don’t see anything. There are no other words. Only my name. Bradley. It sounds just like him. My father died in 1966.
A boyfriend of our neighbor has been murdered. I used to see the kid around. The story on the street is that he took some two dozen rounds. He was leaving the candy store where he worked. I was told that they “shot his face off.” An AK-40 was mentioned, an old Swedish assault rifle. I suppose it was an AK-47. It’s a smallish weapon that can fire some 700 rounds per minute. When I was a kid in Korea one of the guys took seven hits on the inside of his left forearm. It was like the Chinese guy was stitching him up after an operation.
My wife and I were having lunch in a fish place when we ran into a Mexican couple we know. When the wife learned that I have cancer she told us about a Cuban treatment for cancer and to help with the effects of chemotherapy. It’s called alacran azul (blue scorpion). The primary component of blue scorpion appears to be the poison produced by the scorpion itself. One problem is that the Cubans have not commercialized the product, it’s not for sale, but if you follow a certain procedure and you go to Cuba you will be given it at no cost. The lady will see to it that I get information on the treatment, and the telephone numbers and so on to arrange to get to Havana. We’ll see.
The husband of the blue scorpion lady runs a small manufacturing business in Tijuana. He was telling me that one of the partners of a local hardware store had been kidnapped the day before and a very high ransom was being demanded. Businessmen here are under a high level of threat. They are primary targets of both professional and amateur kidnappers. My friend drives a fancy car. In the name of public anonymity he said he is thinking of trading it in for a used pickup.
I feel pretty good, all things considered, but I am affected with periodic bouts of brain fog brought on by the chemo treatments. This week the individual who proofs Smith's Report informed me that when I sent out the Online version of the newsletter I sent the version that had not yet been proofed by him. I apologized for blowing his work and yesterday I sent out the proofed version with an apology to my readers for bothering them. Within hours my editor wrote me saying that I had sent the same draft, without his proofing. Brain fog. I’m not going to send it again. Who knows what version of the hard copy I mailed. I’ll check, but it’s too late now. It’s gone. Behind the curtain with a Holocaust revisionist.
It has been argued that a religious man does not seek God. That the religious man is concerned with the transformation of society, which is himself. That’s probably what is meant when it is said that the search for truth is individual, not congregational. It is clear historically, even in the West, the birthplace of intellectual freedom, that the congregational search for truth has invariably hardened into dogma.
Which brings us to organizations such as UNESCO (we won’t bother with the pipsqueaks who run History News Network). While the Communication and Information Sector of UNESCO (CIF) is dedicated to “Empowering people through the free flow of ideas by word and image, and by access to information and knowledge,” in fact it encourages a free flow of ideas for some, but not for all. That is what we have learned to expect from “congregational” approaches to Truth. Dogma.
The Holocaust Marketing Industry is the core instrument for the congregational approach to the history and morality of our age. Dogma, pure and simple.