LSR Notes: 8/31/20

“Stop obeying and start being.”

  • Dr. Freckles

***

soon men and women will wander the streets …

gloves of iron, and hooks, and putrid edges of morbid eyes …

gumbous freaks, staring at your meat taco … but your women is feverish and your money is burning …

and you think the ho-world cares?

but you know it’s hooker land

***

  1. eat healthy food, if you can find it
  2. don’t eat too much
  3. exercise

(and yet, in this dystopia, all of the above are hard now … in the fucking city)

You have to imagine me as a space ship commander, coasting through the collective unconscious, deep inner space bullshit … and I radio back once in a while.

(but my radio is broken)

(and my heart is a raisin)

***

I will blow your mind …

I’d rather live around people that are NOT pissed off at me.

***

“Don’t assume: SOMEONE IS FIXING IT … if you’re not fixing it? – why do you assume someone else is?”

  • Dr. Freckles

***

Demons live in many places …

They thrive on LACK of human communication.

When we don’t talk? – we assume the thoughts of others, and the demon whispers, and we become hateful for no reason other than madness.

Demons live in the spaces where people look away from each other.

***

chickens OVER cows at this point

potatoes OVER grains …

herbs OVER pills …

vegetables OVER fruits …

salt OVER sugar …

shelter OVER cars …

guns OVER feelings …

friends OVER followers …

life OVER death

and Jesus loves us …

***

“Smart systems collapse gracefully … dumb ones fall apart at the worst moment.” – Dr. Freckles

***

“The best protection against too much complexity? – simplify.”

  • Dr. Freckles

dfgtc #Complexity

You don’t greet the collapse of complexity with MORE complexity

you go to fundamentals

food, water, shelter

(those are things you NEED)
(bitcoin riches? – something you want)

***

People are still in denial about collapse, and its non-linear nature:

They still need to believe “I can ship my shit” via FEDEX or UPS or USPS … and they’d rather lose product AND customers than admit their paradigm is FLAWED.

That’s what you need to know about shipping beef.

***

and let’s say you cannot ship in increments LESS THAN 300 pounds …

that means the risk/reward calculus works EVEN BETTER for the mother fucker thief at UPS or FEDEX or USPS or any other over the ground carrier …

It’s worse for the product seller the more beef there is.

***

crypto people be like “my blockchain verifies my transactions”, but what they DON’T FUCKING KNOW is that if you’re shipping shit? – you still depend upon shippers not stealing your shit …

or adulterating it …

or rubbing their fecal matter on your food shipment.

Let’s say I shipped 100 deliveries, randomly distributed over 3 weeks … using randomly selected over-the-ground carriers …

I would be surprised if more than 80 of the deliveries made it, at this point.

(I didn’t say “pretend it’s 1995 and your pa just bought you a camaro”)

***

I’ve lost several donations, sent to me, via USPS, in the last few months …

I don’t go crazy about it:

  1. I tell my donors to NO LONGER use USPS.
    and
  2. I DON’T LIVE IN FANTASY LAND

To believe a person could ship 300 pounds of premium beef, without pilfering, at this point?

***

If you are running ANY FUCKING BUSINESS at this point?

And you ship high-value items?

ESPECIALLY FOOD OR LIQUOR?

then you might want to build a coop/mutual logistics network for delivery.

(just so you don’t get fucked by the desperate people who are going to steal your shit)

When it comes to food deliveries:

reliability > cheap

***

No matter your feelings …

NATURE DOES NOT GIVE A FUCK.

No matter your fears …

NATURE DOES NOT GIVE A FUCK.

God loves you, but you ain’t in Eden no more …

AND NATURE DOES NOT GIVE A FUCK.

(and nature is NOT linear)

(and this ends my Ted Talk on collapse)

LSR Notes: 8/30/2020

what if there are 17 primal moons between the Earth and THE MOON?

you migrate from one moon to the next …

a star glazer space ship takes you on a ride …

you eat chocolate pie with the demon cats …

you share whiskey with Sasquatch as you touch your soul resin and vomit.

***

I was caged, by a sandman general …

I was haunted by the orangutan lords …

I was visited by spirits and demons and witches and monkeys and various small furry things …

I took from the great deep well.

I found the 7th gate to Hell.

I burned for nothing at all, I fell.

***

I will build a device …

on it will be glowing dials …

inside will be midget witches, and gremlins, and squirrels and dead things ….

we will wind her up …

we’ll all stare at it …

and after several hours a greasy substance will be exuded

we will rub it on our faces

***

  1. it is TRAGIC if your kid dies at summer camp
  2. it is NOT a TRAGEDY when your kid dies while participating in a riot or looting

Sorry if this seems cold heart’d, but people need to realize: play stupid commie games, win stupid commie prizes.

Not everyone is as nice as Kyle.

***

Kenobi hunts ewoks …

he pickles ewoks …

he skins and smokes them …

he BBQ them over his fire at night, listening to the cries of the widows …

he collects their widow ewok tears …

he uses this to season the ewok flesh …

and then he goes out to hunt again, why not

***

I think Kenobi is out there …

Now …

Hunting ewoks …

***

I saw a family, all masks today …

Including what looked like a kid under the age of 3 … with a mask on …

A toddler …

Please tell me #Seattle can be saved?

***

I met a raven pirate, on my way to the Chevron …

He told me my heart was turning to glass.

He said my mind was filthy with rancid Velveeta …

He said my eyes glowed red, and the jaundice was visible …

He flew in circles above me.

the vultures followed suit.

(what now)

***

I feel a pain …

but I think it’s just the 5G transmitters toasting my insides … giving me stomach cancer …

other than that shit is great

***

Conflict resolution, in the future?

I will build a device …

on it will be glowing dials …

inside will be midget witches, and gremlins, and squirrels and dead things ….

we will wind her up …

we’ll all stare at it …

and after several hours a greasy substance will be exuded

we will rub it on our faces

***

“Dan, quantum computing and free energy will fix the crypto problems …”

“Why isn’t the black market offering rides to Mars yet?”

“you’re racist”

(and scene)

RacismTheater #BlockChain #Technology

***

it was better times …

when Coca Cola contained cocaine.

LSR Notes: 8/29/2020

https://www.foxnews.com/health/coronavirus-travel-toilet-pipes-study

Mr. Roark – nazi scientist, Gestapo interrogation and psyop expert … https://youtu.be/fTJCfbllDgs?t=1849

becoming a minister …

Les Miserables, in the park: now playing, Portland … Seattle? – soon … Ferrari of Seattle is still selling Ferrari

it will be worse for us, than for the Romans, when the collapse hits …

defining “collapse” merely in terms of electricity is funny …

https://www.wctv.tv/content/news/Local-man-arrested-after-lighting-underwear-on-fire-at-Starbucks-409784745.html?utm_source=dlvr.it&utm_medium=twitter

great ideas defy critics and the state – like “space travel”. are black markets stronger than the state?

For things that are feasible?

Historically?

Regulation FOLLOWS the market …

GRESHAM’s LAW : bad money chase out good money … and counterfeiting …

“How do you become wise? … fuck up a LOT … don’t die.”

  • Dr. Freckles

dfgtc #wisdom

“On the road to Damascus, I found a joint.” – Dr. Freckles … God is kind.

***

you have to breed turtles with tigers …

turgers …

a tiger, with a shell … nearly bullet proof …

turgers …

***

Could you imagine building a cringe out of glee?

Can you see the monkey tribes?

Did the last king of Minneapolis leave you starving in a cage, drowning, sinking, slowly beneath the waves?

Are you going to be a go-getter, and set the world on fire?

Do you have asbestos soup?

***

I’m gonna have to change out my mold harvesters …

been growing black and green and yellow and red mold …

but purple mold is big now … for fun “on the go” sports drinks, for young people that think there’s gonna be a Christmas this year … but December will be cancelled.

***

“What kind of dlimbus is that?”

“That? shit, that’s munkit meat …”

“Where you get that?”

“From Hal, down by the Chevron station …”

“You mean the one that sells stringous-juice and horse-pie?”

“Yeah …”

“So what’s munkit meat again?”

“Shit … nobody knows.”

***

when the black clad freaks come for me?

I’ll be chasing down the viper kings of Houston …

when the frunkis-butt-heads of Soongo come for me?

I’ll be smoking meth and drinking battery acid and tied to a horse filled with dynamite

when death comes for me?

I’ll set a claymore

***

All gronkis lords …

report to redoubt 12 …

feed the liger army the toasted goodies of dead things you found yesterday on your walk by the Duwamish …

ensure the commie-dundis-folk of the UW are covered in fecal juices, as they are wont to be …

And #seattle becomes GOG.

***

there was a language we spoke, and it arose before “no” …

there was a language we knew, as children, and it existed before “maybe” …

there were words, barely in sight, not nearly on the surface nor well lit …

dusky chunks of youth …

a time of words which would play

***

“I am a winner.”

I say it, like a prayer to the rat monks of lower Queen Anne …

“I am a winner.”

I say that to the bus driver, not knowing what dirty looks I might get

“I am a winner.”

I speak to the old hounds that congregate on Jefferson, near where that dude was killed.

***

I was born of ape and muskrat …

I was carried to the great waters of Noorb, and anointed leader of the Oolongit tribes of eastern Ballard …

Torbis, the priest of Xax? – he showed me the lights that would glow … he showed me the musky taverns filled with old stale drunks.

***

“I formed 8 committees before I was two.”

– Dr. Freckles, Lord of Committees

***

Most people agree, my view of #Seattle is casually nice …

***

you want a roll top desk too?

you think you’re gonna skate by the vodka billionaires, as they toss acid at your face?

why don’t you find a bag and fill it with rocks, and find a commie and tune up that mother fucker?

WHY?

Because the street freaks feed on baloney and dog rice

***

in an age of puritanical blue bot cowboys …

scarred by years of SWAT and CHIPS and Hill Street Blues … and other stories of how a man can be sent to the dungeon and raped and beaten on for 20 years because maybe he smoked some reefer in the club?

You seeing the angels yet?

***

“Joob?”

“Yeah man …”

“You hear about old Vrunkal?”

“Vrunk? That old gypsy?”

“Yeah, you hear?”

“Nah … what?”

“He was working down by the #Seattle center, digging holes … some duded tossed him into the protein recovery truck …”

“Shit …”

“He’s taco meat by now.”

***

ALERT MESSAGE:

ALL PROTEIN CUBES WILL BE ENHANCED WITH MICRONUTRIENTS MINED FROM THE BOTTOM OF THE DUWAMISH RIVER.

ALL WATER WILL NOW BE RECYCLED FROM YOUR NEIGHBOR’S TOILET.

ALL LOVE WILL BE SOLD AT THE CHEVRON STATION, NEXT TO THE CANS OF NALLEY’S CHILI.

ALL HAIL #SEATTLE.

***

“I was meant to be the LAST of the Klungous-Lords, not the first?”

“Son, if the Lord of Ballard doesn’t have his flesh-contract, he’ll split the city in two …”

“THEN LET #SEATTLE BURN!”

(Old Klagg, first over-holder of plimbous, swore he would never trigger the fusion bomb)

***

A CDS, with credit event declared, is the new “o-face”.

***

“You were on watch, what did ya see?”

“Nothing …”

“Come on Glimm, you and I are old friends from the spungous-farms …”

“I DIDN’T SEE NOTHING …”

(Glimm, looking sadly through the porthole of his living unit, staring into the bleak #Seattle nothingness)

“… just pain.”

***

By the year 2034?

I will have already built a home made of creosote and old cinder blocks and rebar and chunks of whale bone …

By 2036 …

I will have forged my first sword made of titanium and pain …

By 2037 …

I will marry 8 wives, and fertilize them with love oils.

***

A conversation from 2029 …

“Mel?”

“Yeah Cindy …”

“Mel … I’m thinking of moving …”

“Where?”

“Mel … I’m thinking of moving to Bellingham …”

“THERE AIN’T NO FUCKING BELLINGHAM NO MORE!”

“I hear things …”

“What the fuck do you hear?”

“I hear the commies have died, it’s safe to return.”

***

I think it’s ok to conceptualize eating squirrel …

I think it’s ok to abstract out rat-stew ..

I think people should meditate on the proteins and oils that can be gleaned from the nasty sidewalks of this dark and wretched ho-dom … a land of whorish delights, and real estate

***

“How much for that car?”

“That car flies …”

“HOW MUCH FOR THAT FUCKING CAR?”

“That car flies, and has 2 x 4.5 mega watt rail guns …”

“MOTHER FUCKER! HOW MUCH FOR THAT DAMN CAR?!?”

“It has stereo … hi fidelity”

(Trangis, just released from the memory jail, beats him)

***

The Seattle greases call out like a thirsty bitch filled with old beer and cigarettes and whatever tampon nightmare is sticking to the walls of that moldy old lady’s room …

You can smell #Seattle now … like a dead whore down by the Duwamish …

You can hear her, like flies.

***

Skankus, was meant to be commissioned as the prince of impossibility …

Drumpis would splay out NYC before the Atlantic council, and the 4th bishop of Marseilles would speak in riddles …

But porcupine dreams can’t keep these mother fuckers from their water ski homeland.

***

“… get down …”

“Wahd?”

“… get down man, they shooting ho-balls …”

“Fug …”

(ho balls are fiber glass projectiles that contain stomach spiders that eat you from the inside out and leave you writhing and swearing and pissing your pants as the sky turns black, red)

***

pharma grade no laxatives cocaine …

(I’m thinking I need to step up to flavor country)

***

by 2045, I will have been ruler of #Seattle for 12 years …

many busty whores will lay themselves out for me …

the kings of Vancouver and Spokane will do my bidding …

I will harvest the ape meat and feed upon orca flesh and drink scorpion wine by the bay …

no strangers

***

I’m seeing so many commie freaks now, and gronkis lords, and mask-head-unicycle-pony-boy-surfers …

and most of them do meth down by the overpass …

and that’s where they end up dying … broken up by their own miserable desire for one last bloody night of revenge and turmoil

***

“I AM GENERAL HRAGG!”

“Yes you are …”

“I AM RULER OF DEATH ZONE 72 …”

“The coolest death zone Sire …”

“I FEAST FIRST UPON THE WILD FRENCH BULLDOG MEAT!”

“You get the frenchie first, you sure do …”

(the general’s sadness could not be broached by no fucking bullshit)

***

On my trip today, a dude was screaming at me …

This happened …

At the bus stop near Union and 23rd … he just kept screaming “I DON’T SEE NO BLACK PEOPLE!”

And I just stood there … no mask, staring into the distance waiting for my fucking bus.

And he looked at me …

***

“Lay back, take it easy …”

SKY-VOX 3345 would speak from super loud mega phones …

It screamed in the night “TAKE IT FUCKING EASY!”

But we didn’t take it easy …

We didn’t take it lying down …

We built a trebuchet, and loaded it with tannerite and frenchie shit …

We launched volleys …

We drank the wine of victory.

***

I was a whisky fisherman …

I foraged for grapes and crabs and squirmy things … down by the marsh.

I was chased by coyotes, before it was cool.

I was leader of the glingen-hunt, I shaved the walrus for 50 bucks …

And yet #Seattle is still a boil, and I the lance man?

***

“What’s that, over there?”

“That’s a sklunket … fucking mutant frog-ape-raccoon … they live under the cars …”

“under the cars?”

“That’s how they hunt …”

“fuck …”

“welcome to #Seattle fucker …”

(a conversation from 2033)

***

“You done?”

“nah …”

“But that’s gross …”

“IT’S FOOD YOU HARLOT!”

“… don’t say it like that …”

“I love you baby …”

“You gonna let me eat some of that rat stew?”

“I made it for your birthday …”

“I love you honey.”

(a conversation from 2025, #Seattle, Belltown)

About the Rosary

The rosary was forged in an age of chivalry. It is a spiritual weapon, a heavenly sword, fashioned by the hands of a Divine Craftsman. All swords take time and skill to make, but this heavenly sword required the greatest of efforts – centuries – to produce. It is a weapon unlike any other. It has the power to slay dragons (demons), converts sinners, and conquer hearts. The blade of this sword was forged in the living Word of God, shaped by the hammer of divine inspiration, and entrusted to the Queen of Heaven and her chosen servants.”
~ Father Donald Calloway, “The Rosary: Spiritual Sword of Mary

There are many rosaries, this one is mine. Yes, that is much like the basic training admonition, “There are many rifles, this one is mine.” I believe the rosary is a spiritual sword, or, to use a more contemporary weapon in the metaphor, a spiritual rifle. It is meant to slay the enemies of God through the Divine Will.

My particular rosary has 61 chains, 7 medallions, 53 onyx beads, and 1 crucifix. In my recitation of the rosary, I recite a prayer on each of these items, giving a total of 122 prayers. In addition, before each of the medallions I say the Fatima prayer, and since the large central medallion is approached twice, these Fatima prayers add a total of 8 prayers, bringing the total to 130 prayers altogether.

Here are those prayers, and the procedure that I follow:

  • On the crucifix, make the sign of the cross and then pray the Apostles’ Creed.

I believe in God, the Father Almighty, Creator of Heaven and earth; and in Jesus Christ, His only Son, Our Lord, Who was conceived by the Holy Ghost, born of the Virgin Mary, suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified; died, and was buried. He descended into Hell; the third day He arose again from the dead; He ascended into Heaven, sitteth at the right hand of God, the Father Almighty; from thence He shall come to judge the living and the dead. I believe in the Holy Spirit, the holy Catholic Church, the communion of saints, the forgiveness of sins, the resurrection of the body, and life everlasting. Amen.

  • On the chain, pray the Glory Be.

Glory be to the Father, to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit, as it was, is now, and ever shall be, world without end. Amen.

  • Before each medallion, pray the Fatima prayer:

O My Jesus, forgive us our sins, save us from the fires of hell and lead all souls to heaven, especially those in most need of Thy mercy. Amen.

  • On the next bead, say the Our Father.

Our Father, Who art in heaven, hallowed be Thy name; Thy kingdom come; Thy will be done in earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread; and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us; and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, for ever. Amen.

  • On the chain, pray the Glory Be.

Glory be to the Father, to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit, as it was, is now, and ever shall be, world without end. Amen.

  • On the following small beads, pray three Hail Marys.

Hail Mary, full of grace. The Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death. Amen.

On the each successive medallion, meditate on the mystery and pray the Our Father. The large central medallion is approached and skipped the first time it comes up. The upper part of the rosary forms a circle and the system of prayers is completed at the large medallion.

You pray mysteries for each of the five sections (decades) of the rosary according to the day of the week:

  1. Mondays and Saturdays: The Joyful Mysteries remind the faithful of Christ’s birth: The Annunciation (Luke 1:26–38); The Visitation (Luke 1:39–56); The Nativity (Luke 2:1–21); The Presentation (Luke 2:22–38); The Finding of the Child Jesus in the Temple (Luke 2:41–52)
  2. Tuesdays and Fridays: The Sorrowful Mysteries recall Jesus’ passion and death: The Agony of Jesus in the Garden (Matthew 26:36–56); The Scourging at the Pillar (Matthew 27:26); The Crowning with Thorns (Matthew 27:27–31); The Carrying of the Cross (Matthew 27:32); The Crucifixion (Matthew 27:33–56).
  3. Wednesdays and Sundays: The Glorious Mysteries focus on the resurrection of Jesus and the glories of heaven: The Resurrection (John 20:1–29); The Ascension (Luke 24:36–53); The Descent of the Holy Spirit (Acts 2:1–41); The Assumption of Mary, the Mother of God, into heaven; The Coronation of Mary in heaven.
  4. Thursdays: Pope John Paul II added The Mysteries of Light, also known as the Luminous Mysteries, in 2002: The Baptism in the River Jordan (Matthew 3:13–16); The Wedding Feast at Cana (John 2:1–11); The Preaching of the coming of the Kingdom of God (Mark 1:14–15); The Transfiguration (Matthew 17:1–8); The Institution of the Holy Eucharist (Matthew 26). After all the decades of the rosary are completed, the final prayer is said while holding the large central medallion.

Hail, Holy Queen, Mother of mercy, our life, our sweetness, and our hope. To thee do we cry, poor banished children of Eve, to thee do we send up our sighs, mourning and weeping in this valley of tears. Turn then, most gracious advocate, thine eyes of mercy toward us; and after this our exile show unto us the blessed fruit of thy womb Jesus, O clement, O loving, O sweet Virgin Mary. Pray for us, O holy Mother of God. That we may be made worthy of the promises of Christ. O God, whose only-begotten Son, by His life, death, and resurrection, has purchased for us the rewards of eternal salvation; grant we beseech Thee, that meditating upon these mysteries of the most holy Rosary of the Blessed Virgin Mary, we may imitate what they contain and obtain what they promise. Through the same Christ our Lord. Amen.

Altogether this system of prayers takes me about 15 minutes to recite in a good tone of voice, with appropriate elocution and enunciation. As you can see from this essay, I take the rosary seriously.

The people of the world are now in a spiritual battle. We need all the weapons and weapon-wielders we have available to us. If you pray the rosary, please continue to do so. If you pray in a different specific way, please do not view this article as any sort of criticism of your way. Pray the way you were taught, pray the way you are inspired to pray. I like the Fatima prayer and the three messages of Fatima are very important to our world right now. Also, I like the Our Father as given in the book of Matthew rather than the book of Luke, because in Luke the last word before “Amen” is the word “evil” and in Matthew there are additional important words.

Not all rosaries look alike. Here is a picture of mine.

You can see the medallions are the medallion of St. Benedict. It is an important medallion and, on its reverse, shows a cross with capital letters. For a time in the early Renaissance, the meaning of these letters was lost, but their meaning was rediscovered. They represent the initials of a Latin phrase to rebuke Satan. Given the demonic forces involved in the attemp to destroy Christianity and eliminate all civilised behaviour, force everyone to eat insects and sludge, and impose a mark of the “beast” vaccine regimen and inserted bio-chip identity and banking system that can be turned off if you express any dissent, it seems wise to know how to cast out demons.

If you already have a rosary and it has beads instead of medallions, keep it and keep praying. Pray as often as you feel you should. Every day I ask how many times I should pray the rosary, and I pray at least as many as I’m told.

The rosary is not the only weapon in our spiritual battle. It is a very powerful one.

Unity among believers is also important. Jesus taught that wherever two or more of us are gathered together in His name, He is there. Jesus also taught that what we who believe in faith ask for shall be granted us. So, I suggest that we unite in prayer, those of us who choose to pray the rosary. Every hour, on the hour, if one says the rosary, others may be praying at the same time, and that would include many time zones. Every Sunday at 6 p.m. you may be joined by others praying the rosary in your same time zone. These occasions would be ways to unify in prayer.

If you do not pray the rosary entirely, then at 6 p.m. on Sundays, pray the Apostle’s Creed, as above.

Always pray as you feel led, and ask for what you seek. God is merciful. Have faith. Your prayers will be answered.

Link to PDF …

====

Jim Davidson prays the rosary.

A prayer for the lost …

Jesus …

I was lost in the darkness, and I called out, and you were there.

I was afraid, ignorant, without a map or a compass or a candle in the night, and you were there …

Lord …

We have wandered and struggled in this life, and we have felt disconnected and afraid,

many of us wander our whole life in darkness …

an unrelenting darkness haunts many of us, without relief …

this time, this crisis, this curse that has befallen our friends and neighbors?

it seems as if it will never end, that the curse will never be lifted.

But we are not lost.

We are not without hope.

For those we love, for the sick, for the elderly, for the orphan and the widow and widower, there is always hope and love in Christ …

For the sinners, those that are struggling with faith, there is hope in Christ.

Dear Lord, I know that we have closed our hearts to you, many of us have …

Lord, I know that your kingdom is always open, your door is always there,

nothing can lock down your love for us,

and for those of us that are lost?

Your eternal flame is visible,

as a strong old lighthouse beacon,

helping us along our way,

guiding us back home to you,

so in your name we pray for the lost,

we pray that you keep us close,

In the name of Jesus Christ,

AMEN

Who is this lord that I serve?

In 1st Samuel, Chapter 8, the Israelites, tired from years of poor management and abuse by the Judges of Israel … they demanded a king … they asked Samuel, who was old, to ask God if they might have a king …

And what does God say?

He says the KING you obey will steal your wealth, enslave your offspring, and take from you unjust portions … and you will complain, and when you do complain … I, your lord, will not hear you …

The first form of government for the chosen people was a system of judges, but to be honest it wasn’t a very reliable system and it was open to abuse and conflicts of interest and fraud … the book of Judges, one of my favorite books, covers this period quite well … and it covers that persistent biblical theme – the cycle of apostasy …

What is this cycle? – it is the eternal dance between mankind and God … God is kind, infinitely so … we have a special word for God’s immeasurable kindness: Hesed

Why do I mention HESED?

God’s steadfast and infinite love?

Because in 1 SAM 8, the “chosen people” choose to have a man, any man, rule over them, other than God … and it’s an old story … and 1 SAM 8 only solidifies it.

The story is this: mankind turns from God, mankind turns toward evil (Baal), mankind finds itself enslaved by evil in some form, mankind begs for God’s help, God helps … eventually mankind turns away from God again.

Yet God still loves us.

So if someone asks me “who is this lord I serve?” – it is a God, a Christ, Lord Jesus, who is able to exist and does not require my love nor force it … God demands, but the choice is always mine, always yours, always ours.

The lord I serve: is able to accept rejection, and wants us to find our own way even IF we make terrible mistakes …

If we recall the life of Jesus? – we know that Jesus was a traveler, with very little in the form of property, nor did he rail against property like some kind of silly communist.

Jesus had little, but he did a lot – his power was of God and Heaven, not something accrued in savings over time … Jesus never denounced “being rich”, but he was also not afraid of advancing the idea that it is GOOD to be kind to the poor. And, to note, that poverty of spirit can be as much an affliction … and no amount of gold cures this illness.

The lord I serve: he’s ok with the poor and the rich, he simply wants us to be kind to each other …

My lord?

My lord has a record …

My lord was arrested …

My lord was taken in chains to stand trial, he was convicted by a jury of his peers, he was sentenced to torture and public ridicule and death … and death next to criminals, thieves, the lowest of the low.

My lord didn’t believe in “the law” – but rather respected a higher law, a better purpose.

If someone asks me who my lord is?

The lord I serve: I say, I SERVE A GOD HUMBLE ENOUGH TO DIE LIKE THE WORST, IN ORDER TO FORGIVE ALL THE SINS OF THE WORLD!

Jesus went into the temple, tossed the tables, rebuked the Pharisees for their crooked activities in the temple …

Jesus was willing to take action, even violent action, in defense of principle.

Jesus was a shepherd, but he was no sheep …

Jesus was a peacemaker, but he was no dove …

Jesus wants ALL OF US to have faith in him and to live according to his teachings, but he is all to capable of meting out justice and wrath to the evil.

The lord I serve: not afraid of cops, but would sit down with cops, just as he broke bread with centurions.

The lord I serve: gives us hope, gives us a basis for a just and reasonable society …

The lord I serve: wants us to voluntarily, cooperatively, solve problems …

The lord I serve: wants us to be good shepherds, missionaries … but he also wants us to remember WHEN it’s time to fight back, defend ourselves, the people we love … to remember: the disciples of Christ carried swords.

A prayer for peace …

Lord in Heaven,

You give to us a world of life and joy,

you make ready a feast, you breathe into our lungs that first breath.

Jesus – on our first day you were there, to shelter, to guide, to love,

along our journey we sin, we fight, we commit abuses against our neighbors,

but Lord … in spite of this, you are prepared to help us heal, to forgive, to welcome us back.

I pray this day that people can learn by your example, as demonstrated in the gospels,

I pray this day that people can heed your wisdom, your guidance.

I pray for my brothers and sisters that we do more than WAIT for PEACE!

I pray we begin building it, with love, compassion, cooperation, and liberty.

I pray we remember our birthright as humans,

I pray we remember our value, our dignity,

I pray we begin to heal,

I pray for peace.

AMEN

Colby Jack No. 2: “Back story … 4 stories down – 2020 to 2034”

People thought 2020 was a drag … then came 2021.

People said “shit, 2021 is fucked-in-da-a” …

And then, inevitably, came 2022 … 2023 … 2025 … 2028 … 2030 … and, eventually 2034.

By 2034, shit is fucked everywhere …

Most of the cities have decayed to the point where “police” are mostly rambler-bots, with low I.Q., and the ability to check your credit score … flimsy little bots, armed with poorly manufactured tasers. The damn little bots would shock you if you had a low credit score … then again, the “credit score” was really just a nod to a NOW DEAD thing … a dying empire of trashy financial instruments, rigged markets, and butt-fucker-unicycle-bond-floaters … when Goldman issued their “moon bond” in December, 2021? – people began to see, the end was not near … the “end” was on a sign, 500 miles behind. And they were out of gas.

Some cops still patrolled in places like Seattle … mainly they drove MRAPs around, and armored hummers sometimes … the cops that were left worked for the “Pols”, one of several gangs that now controlled the United States.

Who are these gangs?

Let’s talk about the “Wranglers” first.

The Wranglers are an amalgamation of the west coast biker posse (which was really just all the then known biker gangs in a kind of “federation of bikers”, being led by the Hell’s Angels) … and Texas range hands, cowboys, ex slaughterhouse workers … they joined the Wranglers too … they were a roving gang, hunter gatherers … migratory, like birds. The Wranglers considered the old highway systems their territory – and they actually worked to maintain them … using proceeds from land piracy, large scale jobs, raids on old government arms caches.

Then there were the “farm hands” … the “farm hands” formed from disenfranchised, homeless, and angry farmers … the “farm hands” controlled just about all the food being produced. If you wanted to eat in 2034? – you negotiated with Lisa Marie Hargrove, Queen of the Farm Hand posse, and 3 time winner of the Nashville Country Music Awards for best female solo artist.

The “Pols”? … yeah … they formed from what was left of the U.S. federal government, local and state governments, after the dollar collapse of 2022 … the Pols were mostly drifter scum … ex-feds … bureaucratic con artists … former Senators … Republican and Democrat … and the U.S. military industrial complex … Federal Reserve banker freaks … they formed a gang … their goal? “Restoration” … problem was? – no one wanted it except for them. The Pols had at most 2,000,000 people in their gang … the Farm Hand Posse? – they had over 32 million members, nationwide. The Pols treated “Restoration” like a religious epoch or some such shit … it was their “end times” … no one wanted it … and there was nothing left to restore.

Other gangs existed too … and many street folk, like Colby Jack, preferred the gang called “unaffiliated”.

Colby’s mind was filled with a lot of thoughts … about the past, about the future.

Colby had just got done meeting with his woman/black-market weapons supplier, Chessly Rash. He didn’t often call her “his woman”, but he knew she was. Chessly didn’t often say “that’s my man, Colby Jack”, but she knew he was hers, she was his.

Colby walked out into blazing heat … Seattle wasn’t what it used to be.

“Today’s high temperature: 122 degrees … Fahrenheit …” – Colby heard chirping from someone’s smart tablet … he hated when people listened to their shit, out loud, on the street. It was the voice of Carly Leone, the local weather girl and exotic dancer. She’d do her normal weather report, then every Monday, Wednesday and Saturday night after 10 PM? – she did a special report, on stage, at “Raul’s” off of Boren AVE.

Colby didn’t care about the heat … he usually just wore a light cotton weave Hawaiian shirt … old blue jeans … and combat boots he had left from the Army, stuff he held onto but didn’t like talking about … and his pistol, big, obvious, strapped to his right hip.

Colby carried a lot of regrets …

Colby was thinking about the past … about the world before the “Adjustment”.

About the “Adjustment”, and the “Great Revelation” and the “Summer that never Ended”.

President Kamala Harris, prior to being shot in 2022, called it the “Adjustment”, labeled it that at Biden’s funeral, in April 2021; she said we had to “adjust to new circumstances”. She was giving an “Adjustment Speech” in Houston, Texas, in April 2022, when a young man, probably schizoid, came at her with GLOCK-19 and a 30 round magazine. He adjusted her using lead. Someone should have told her: POTUS has bad luck in Texas …

A few weeks after President Harris was shot? – yeah … then there was “Happy Friday” … Friday … May 13th … 2022 … the day a mob of New Zealanders stormed Bill Gates’ safe zone, drug him from his home, and tore him to pieces … literally … 5,000 New Zealanders got their piece of flesh … a piece … not enough of Bill to go around really.

Why did a bunch of hungry and insane New Zealanders drag Bill Gates from his home and murder him? … simple …

In 2022, WikiLeaks released the COVID-DUMP … and it told the truth of the bioweapon, the project to install a NWO government, and for Bill Gates to have some high mandarin position in the new global system … but there was more … so much more …

Bill Gates conspired with Israel and China to destabilize the arctic sea … the plan? – to trigger a massive methane release, to trigger the “Clathrate Gun” … covid didn’t work, so the CABAL, led by Gates, pivoted back to climate change and they needed “something big” to quote an decrypted email sent from Bill Gates. They developed a compound that made ice formation nearly impossible, they sprayed this all over the arctic in 2021 – that was the year summer never ended. That summer lasted 5 years …

“The year summer never ended” was bad …

Famine, drought, lack of fresh water … clean water to drink? – sanitation broke down, and then came the bad stuff: several boiling water and pressurized water reactors began melting down, because, well, “heat exchange” … in turns out heat exchange is not too efficient when the Earth undergoes a mini-Venus-syndrome … 7 reactors were lost, up and down the east coast of the USA … many millions died of radiation poisoning, many millions more died of cancer, and the rest slowly died of starvation.

And that’s what it was … “mini-venus-syndrome” … we’re still around and not yet dead, the temps are going down again … the worst was 2021-2026 …

By 2033, last year? – we had some winter in Seattle, even some real snow. Colby was hoping they might have snow for Christmas, perhaps even some real turkey … “real turkey and gravy …” – Colby ate “slurry” most days …

Because of food shortages, people that “got to eat” ate a kind of organic slurry. It was a composite of fats, greases, proteins, vitamins, a complete meal in terms of basic nutrition … it tasted like shit, literally. But, with some extra gold or crypto? – you could still buy real food, meat, vegetables, apples … Colby Jack got laid, 7 times, in 2032, because he had a source of apples.

As of 2034, nearly 4 billion people have died as a result of the “Adjustment”.

When people found out about all this, the real truth? – they went crazy. Even the media could not hold them back, and the mainstream media itself started falling apart.

Journalists went nuts, live, on TV … Howard Beale? – had NOTHING on the fucking crazy antics that occurred at that time … the “Time of Revelation” in 2022 …

The UN voted to arrest Bill Gates on crimes against humanity … the Hague Court had a warrant, for his arrest, issued to INTERPOL.

So, Gates being torn apart in New Zealand? – “damn, that’s justice working things out …”, is what Colby thought. “Reality catches up with ALL!” – Colby read that once, on a bathroom stall door … he was remembering it now, thinking about the past, thinking about Jitler.

“Yo Colby! What you doing?”, asked Mrs. Patrice, the retired hairstylist.

“Heading to work.”

“What kind of job you have?”

“The kind I don’t talk about.”

Mrs. Patrice seemed upset, so Colby stopped for a bit …

“What’s up?”, Colby asked.

“You know that tentacle thing?”

At that moment a rambler bot came rolling up the street, Patrice had been shocked twice that day already … Colby had “skewer rounds” in his pistol … tungsten sabot rounds … high velocity …. he fired 2 into the rambler … and then some tentacles came from below … popping open the man hole, and taking the broken rambler down beneath, back to the sewers … to God knows what.

“You got that ancient residue JACK …”, Patrice liked to flirt with Colby … she was 87 years old. Mrs Patrice reminded Colby of a bar matron he knew in S. Korea, Osan, ran the “Boogie Shop Snake House” … you drink the snake shot, you get the t-shirt! That old Korean woman? – she must have been 90 years old … but she’d scream “drink motherfucker, drink motherfucker, drink …” and it was a call to arms.

“Baby, I have the greases of the ancient Egypt rolling through me …”, Colby responded.

“Those damn roller-bowlers have been taunting me all week … you think the Pols are gonna make another push?”, Patrice was happy Colby took out the little stupid electro-shock credit report robot. She was less sanguine about the tentacled creature that pulled it down. There was a rumor that the “Mayor of Seattle” was going to lead an attack, from Mercer Island, to Seattle downtown … to “restore control”. Nobody wanted this, but no one was really that afraid … “what did they want back?” people would say, as they looked at the decaying city …

“Fucker deserved it …”, Colby said with a smile.

“You know, that tentacle thing? What ya doing about it?”

“Me?”

“YEAH YOU MR. COLBY JACK!”

Colby smiled … he looked off, down the street, down Rainier AVE where it snakes its way through the heart of a putrefying metropolis.

“What can I do Patrice?”

“You could take that hand cannon, go down into that sewer, and kill that mother fucking thing.”

“I don’t know hun … I think some of the Pols got killed going down there a few weeks ago …”

By 2034, what was left of the “government” were the Pols … one of the biggest gangs in the USA, but still too small to do much.

The Pols were made up of those holdouts and true believers in voting, government crap, printing worthless money, and imposing unenforceable taxes and laws …

The Pols hung on, barely, because of the one thing they had to trade – guns, ammo, weapons … even in 2034, the Pols had pretty good shit to sell … they still controlled a number of major weapons conglomerates, and their engineers were all too happy to keep up production … it was how they stayed alive. Every few weeks, in every major city, they would hold “bake sales” – these were rapidly implemented open air bazaars … their arms bazaars got raided a lot, and so they had to be careful about “bake sales”. And who would raid them? – mainly the Wranglers, mainly Hell’s Angels … Hell’s Angels controlled most of the arms sales, up and down the west coast … especially in California, what was left of it. They didn’t like competition.

The “Long Hot Summer” of revelation?

2022?

It began with the preternatural slaying of Bill Gates, and ended with “The Great Nurse and Doctor Massacre” … August 25th, 2022, “Red Thursday” …

One of the revelations was that the Director of Los Angeles Community Hospital, working in cahoots with several nurses and doctors in their staff, conspired to fake COVID-19 data, doctored results for positive tests, deliberately blocked patient access to make it look like there was a “crisis”. And then there’s the story of Tony Glunket …

Tony Glunket was a sports announcer and radio personality – he rarely discussed politics, and when he did discuss the issues he would say “I’m not affiliated …”. His friends suspected he was libertarian or something, but it didn’t matter … he was white, straight, and did NOT meet the criteria for admittance defined by the Community Hospital’s nurse/doctor cabal … they coded him as “M” for morgue, on arrival.

On July the 4th, 2022, in the midst of the one of the worst heat waves in world history, Tony was drinking beers with friends, eating too much, and he felt chest pains … he looked uncomfortable, a friend of his, an ex Navy medic, did a quick assessment and then loaded him into his car to drive him to the nearest hospital … Community Hospital.

At the emergency room, Tony was transferred to a gurney and taken to an observation room. His friend drove back to the party, to give the others still there an update. Tony was single, 50 years old, no kids … he spent 12 excruciating hours in the observation room before he died, alone. No one was allowed in to see him, no doctor checked on him … the REAL coroner’s report, that was part of an Anonymous Hacker dump in late July, 2022? – the real coroner’s report said Tony likely suffered 5 excruciatingly painful heart attacks, before dying half a day on …

Along with all the other damning evidence, there is an audio recording of the Chief of Emergency Medicine, Dr. Sarah Greenburg, laughing about Tony … thinking it was “funny that old white man was dying …”

When the real story of Tony was released?

The audio of Dr. Greenburg?

LA, which was already a powder keg, exploded.

Not fake “Black Lives Matter protesters gone crazy” exploded …

No, not something silly like that …

People eventually figured out “Black Lives Matter”, those Astro Turf commies …

Nah … when these protests, riots, mobs hit? – you could tell … the cops/army started using concertina wire … not rubber cones, not shitty ass chain link fence … but actual fucking razor wire … when drivers saw this going up along Hollywood Blvd? – they knew it wasn’t “Black Lives Matter” … they knew the maelstrom that was coming, was real.

The first armed vengeance mobs were called Glunket-Gangs; all of this done in honor of Tony Glunket, beloved radio personality that pretty much EVERYONE liked.

They made their first attack on Director Shambless’ residence in Ventura, CA. They surrounded her well constructed post-modernist west coast rambler … a local, a construction guy, got control of a cherry picker … and dumped buckets of gasoline on Shambless’ home … she was the only one there, thankfully, the rest of her family had fled to Canada.

By August 15th, the power had been out all over California for about 2 weeks …

Los Angeles?

By mid August, LA was mostly controlled by Glunket-Gangs, and Crips, and Bloods, and Hell’s Angels … nurses and doctors were being hunted, for sport … they were put on trial, at the LA Zoo … actual kangaroos officiated.

There were also thug armies composed of hookers, pimps and public school teachers – they were armed with lead pipes, bags of rocks, knives, and some shotguns … LA public school teachers were mostly meth heads by 2022 … gingus-street-freaks …. to be used as cannon fodder by the hookers and the pimps.

On August 25th, 2022? – Community Hospital was under siege …

There were no patients there, just doctors, nurses, not all of them guilty of crimes, like the ones committed against poor Tony Glunket, but all of them, most of them, committed to the COVID-19 lie … like some cruel reverso Stockholm Syndrome …

Once the Glunket crews broke in, it was all over … pimps and hookers and LA public school teachers went for every nurse, every doctor, they could find …

By 2022, food was already desperately scarce – so wood chippers were being fed the healthcare heroes, and the slurry went to feed pigs in Chinatown.

On August 25th, 2022, 134 doctors, nurses, and other administrative personnel, were killed, on site, at Los Angeles Community Hospital … and their remains were shipped to Chinatown, to feed the pigs, to keep the pork fried rice coming.

“Colby, I’m serious … I saw someone’s cat get taken down there …”, Patrice pointed at the grate near her property, and it did appear to have holes big enough for tentacles and small cats.

“You know Old Turk went down there a few weeks back?”

“Yeah, that old drunk …”

“I don’t know about that, but I saw his left arm when he came back … covered in some kind of gumbous … some kind of growing mucous … like a mold infestation … he said the ER docs had to remove flesh to get rid of it … real messed up.”

“You’re not a fool.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You see that monster, you blow it away … don’t shake hands with it …”, Patrice laughed. Colby’s jagged frown became a sideways smile ….

“They say it’s Pacific great octopus, adapting, changing …”

“Octopus in the sewers Colby?”

“That’s what they say …”

Colby had a long day ahead, he needed to make a few bucks AND gather more info on Jitler …

“See you later Patrice.”

“Please do something about that sewer monster Colby!”

“Okay Patrice …”

Colby Jack wasn’t thinking about the slimy poop monster, down below …

Colby Jack wasn’t thinking about the world that crashed around him …

He was thinking about Jitler …

Jitler … his old nemesis, his old friend.

Jitler … gone for so long, he drifted through the “Adjustment”, 4 billion dead, 2 decades … Jitler survived it all, to make it back home, to Little Saigon, Seattle.

“Shit, that’d make him 46 years old …”, Colby muttered to himself as he walked down that hot and stinky Seattle sidewalk.

“Fuck …”, Colby thought, “that makes me 50 years old.”

He stopped, turned to a clean window at a shoppe – seemed like a clean unbroken window was a rare thing these days … he looked at himself, an old man, a big man, half Irish, half German, half Mexican and all tore up from years of pointless survival … “That’s 150% crazy”, is what Chessly would say, when Colby told her of his lineage.

Colby looked at his hair, weathered, still red but with streaks of gray … he looked at his body, still working … but clearly breaking down … he looked at his Hawaiian shirt, his 12 gauge pistol strapped to his hip … his bandoleer of magic shells Chessly makes him … he looked at this face …

During the “wars”, while deployed to Afghanistan, a grenade blew up too close to him … too close to his face. He wasn’t killed, he was simply left disfigured, with little pock marks, in his face, that would never go away. He looked at his face in the reflection of that clean window. That was the face of a man who’d been in one too many fights.

“Fuck Colby, you have one fight left in you ….”, and Colby turned, ran a little, and caught the street car.

He would go to Joe’s Bar …

He’d find some work, and then get more info on Jitler.

Colby Jack No. 1: “Jitler?”

“What you doing?”, whispered Chessly Rash.

She stood there, clinching $200 in dirty, sweaty, twenties. She just got done providing Colby Jack with his “special stuff”. Transaction complete. Money in hand.

The twenties were new-FED notes, post collapse, contained a durable platinum/gold alloy that represented $20 in value, and could be converted to gold/platinum using a simple chemical procedure. Most people had pocket scanners to check for this weave – if the weave’s not there? – then the money is junk. Also, because of the Treaty of Montreal, 2027, anyone could print money, as long as the precious metal weave, of appropriate value, is in the note. This was one way business was transacted – most preferred gold/silver coins and cryptos … but the FED notes existed because there were still gangs that believed in the old system.

Chessly was an ex-prostitute with a 3D printer, and decent enough skills as a chemist and back alley engineer. She designed/printed advanced 12 gauge rounds for Colby, kicker stuff, good bang … the kinda kill that throws a bum across the room and incinerates his insides at the same time …

Chessly also designed the “pepper gun”, or “pepper jack” as Colby called it …

The “pepper gun” was a 12 gauge revolver, 5 shot, fast loading, recoil piston between the handle and the main assembly … the damn thing was so well balanced, it barely kicked more than a 9 mm … but even being made of titanium-alloy, it was still heavy …

A Taurus “Judge”? – weighs about 2.5 pounds … loaded …

The “pepper gun”? – fuck … weighs about 6 pounds, loaded … and this can vary based upon the rounds being used. The pepper was designed to take just about any 12 gauge ammo … shorts, longs, slugs, buckshot, bird shot, and some of Chessly’s really fancy stuff … explosive … dragon’s breath … tannerite surprise … lil’molotovs … lil’molotovs? – damn, these rounds contained napalm in a binary form, and on impact converted to napalm, explosively.

Yes – Colby Jack carried a gun that was hard to hide … but what’s that?

“Colby Jack was never trying to hide …”, he thought.

“Baby, just take my money and go”, Colby muttered.

“I worry about you Colby …”

Colby smiled, as he loaded the new rounds into his 12 gauge revolver.

“Honey, nobody needs to worry about Colby Jack.”

“You’ze always say that … but then I see your cuts and bruises and puncture wounds … it’s not normal …”

“Come on Chess, you make guns and ammo?”

“I doos … I do … but I do it so people can protect themselves.”

“I’m careful baby …”

“No you aren’t … you dangerous”, Chessly walked towards the door, the door of a crummy hotel room in the worst part of Little Saigon, Seattle. A room that costs about $40 a day, and $50 an hour … the kind of place that screams “END OF THE LINE!”

Chessly gets to the door, and turns around …

“Colby, Jitler is back …”

This was something that Colby didn’t want to hear.

Jitler had been the heavy, the collector, the crusher, an enforcer working out of Joe’s Bar down by the train station.

Jitler killed 36 people, in two weeks, in July of 2015. He was eventually caught and imprisoned, convicted … but on appeal his case was thrown out … lack of evidence … witnesses mysteriously died.

There was a rumor that Jitler had moved to Spokane, and then nothing for almost 20 years … no news, nothing.

“I heard he was in Spokane”, said a slightly perturbed Colby Jack.

“I heard lots of things …”, Chessly moves towards Colby, gets on her knees, and places her head on his lap.

“Colby … I love you … I need you … can’t you just go away with me … to Ohio?”

Colby and Chessly had joked about “going to Ohio” … it was code language … a secret between them … it meant “breaking out of this diseased city and starting over” … that was going to Ohio, that was finally being free.

“There ain’t no Ohio no more.”

“Oh Colby …”, Chessly trembled.

“Now, tell me everything you know about Jitler’s return.”

Colby and Chessly talked, Chessly made her way onto that old ratty bed, dirty mattress, with torn covers and stains … she took of her shirt, revealing her ample breasts. Colby put down his revolver, and unleashed his gun.

They made love through the night …

Forgetting about the diseased city.

Forgetting, for now, the second coming of Jitler.

“Who is my lord? Who do I serve?”: A church service …

8/23/20, 11 AM, Seattle (WA), Volunteer Park, just North of the Water Tower …

Program:

  1. Psalm 23
  2. Opening Prayer – a prayer for peace, understanding, respect, love, dignity and liberty … https://dfgtc.org/iglooluau/?p=435
  3. Greetings: people should greet each other, as they feel comfortable. If you don’t want to have physical contact, do what your heart moves you to do. Please respect each other’s space.
  4. Lord’s prayer: https://dfgtc.org/lp.pdf
  5. First Reading: 1st Samuel, Chapter 8
  6. Prayer for the lost, the sick, for the weary, the lonely, for the poor in body and spirit … a minute of silent reflection. https://dfgtc.org/iglooluau/?p=440
  7. Second Reading: John 15:18-27 and John 16:1-5
  8. Short Sermon: “Who is my lord? Who do I serve?” https://dfgtc.org/iglooluau/?p=428
  9. Public testimony, before man and God. I will go first, and then allow others to speak, before the congregation, as the spirit moves them.
  10. Amazing Grace: https://dfgtc.org/ag.pdf
  11. Closing prayer – a prayer of friendship, of faith, of fellowship in Christ.
  12. Contact: me@iamsully.com