< “3Rs=Referrals, Renewals DNA Relatives” [sic]

Manager Minute One

“The meek with teeth shell inherit the earth” [sic]


KISS=Keep It Simple Stupid?



The key to happiness is ke-ping one’s life simple ensuring fine-tuned antennae.


Never though to be stupid and stoop to someone else’s agenda no matter how much the gain[2].


Dividends are the only way for momworker63s, orphans, pensioners, widows and widowers to have a peaceful night’s sleep never, though, to rely on others to make ends meet[3].


The fear of dying penniless paralyses the mind into making accommodations for others to deposit their utter nonsense which only serves to foster a pennytrate mentality.


Nothing like looking in the mirror for reality check.


Envy reduction can be achieved by having neighborhood parties where everyone particularly the gardener feels part of the family never forgetting to let the young upwardly mobile guests know how poorly you are doing while directing them to seek help from others more sportsmanlike.


Nothing though beats a solid shoulder to cry on butt know their mettle by getting to know their parents and/or mentors. And then painstakingly go about proving out their “stated reserves” always better to be understated at least until you are grown up capable of speaking your mind.


In times of crisis, always find the time to stretch no matter what the other priorities for exercise expands the muscles of the mind to remain flexible when push comes to shove.


Digging deep requires overcoming all fears including being willing to lose the comforts of one’s own digs appreciating that the greenest pastures ly within the passages of the brain. The further one travels with the w-right companions the more likely one will encounter gold bearing in mind the need for a moral compass at all times well-equipped to gauge what is up and down.


Identifying leaks before the waters engulf you is a technique that combines skill and experience to always maintain one’s own pace which can only be in sync with the immaterial world. The best things in life are free such as the sun, wind and currents which all add up to the climate, the rest comes at a premium.


The cleanup must begin with the insurance industry who got their 3Rs=Referrals, Renewals and Relatives, confused with their ABC[4]s.


Bloodlines[5] clog up the art-aries

leading to oxygen deprivation to the brainne.


fights the bloodiest.

Sleep a must


Simply move near-up a creek.

One pays a very high price when caught up in a business cycle created by men who have lost their bearings the result of machinations that lead to the clogging up of estuaries that help reflect light in to the brain.

It is not necessary to understand how a watch works in order to keep track of time but knowing the watchmaker improves the odds that the cogs will stand the test of time much the same way it is not necessary to understand the mind of God who created motion and who sets a perfect pace for each one of us right from the start placing signposts at every turn encouraging us to use the twists in the road to gain higher elevation, always accelerating through the turns feeling the weightlessness of not carrying the burdens of the world on one’s shoulders that only comes about when moving quickly through the ups and downs only slowing down to get a breath of fresh air that comes mostly out of the mouths of the young or a lover well grounded. We have no one but God to thank for electro magnetism and the wonders that keep the light from moving far beyond the shadow of the sun.

Kissing a must, always better with someone who has the willpower to stay the course.

Horses for courses has us betting on others to bring home the bacon in the form of the Euro, the South African Rand, the green back blah blah blab[6].

We make our own luk by keeping our noses clean, shaving not only for the birds[7], horse kuk heartily enjoyed by dogs.

[1] Born in 1957 into a Jewish “Orthodox” family on the eastern beltway of Southern Africa in a province of South Africa called Natal in a city called Durban, it wasn’t long before I, Gary S. Gevisser, the principal of NextraTerrestial.com “was taken” with the fascination of “Moc Crayfish” [sic] that was served on “special occasions” although I don’t recall this “kosher treif” being on the Passover menu. It was mostly an “adult thing” that had everyone prancing around as though they were engaging in something taboo, like watching X rated movies although more in line after a couple of bottles of maneshivitz seeing bottled up white women having sex with Jamaican men and likeweiss white men have also been known to behave “badly.”



I have been told that I would attract a much larger audience if I simply toned down the language, left out the personal stuff and simply delivered what some close to me think is a rather powerful message. What I have found though based on empirical evidence is that the number of hits my website gets seems to drop when I follow conventional wisdom. So far I haven’t placed any pornographic material on my website although if you happened to be in Superior Court back on October 24th of last year you would have thought quite differently. “Mr. Hearst”’s [sic] full color exhibit of my “travel companion’s” two children having a great time was depicted more like a sordid crime scene. Mr. Hurst Esq. is man of many words and he will now for the rest of his life have to live it down with all the garbage that he spewed in the courtroom where I was very fortunate to have both a fair judge and a “travel companion” that sent everyone including the judge a very clear message, “Even though Mr. Gevisser comes with a warning label, you decided to take your best shot at him and missed … butt think twice about every messing with me or my children ever again.” [sic].


I only began speaking at age 3 and so no one can say for sure what exactly was going through my mind during the “terrible 2s” but when I was age one I think I sent a number of signals that I could already count. I am the person in the front of the rowing boat and both hands have just 3 fingers showing and I can’t remember anyone fiddling with my buttons nor pushing me to do something I knew to be wrong. There are lots of coincidences in each of our lives but not all of us pay that much time to the detail.  Back on 6-11-1999 “momworker63” presented me with quite a challenge and on October 1st of the same year with less than 2 hours to go before the statue of limitations ran out Mr. “Circle” K and other likeminded attorney-colleagues of mine set the wheels in motion that now gives all of us the opportunity to get on board the chew chew train without there being any more train smashes let alone collateral damage. Pictures tell a thousand words. A good example is the Wrigley chewing gum wrapper I picked up on my way to Machu Picchu in March of last year with my dog Pypeetoe in tow.


It takes a while to explain things like, “We should first chew on our words and only if willing to place our thoughts down on paper say what is on our mind, otherweiss toss those thoughts in to the waste paper basket” [sic] and of course no one wants to be the last one to abandon ship.Today folks like AON, the insurance broker giant may not yet have caught on to the wave that is about to engulf the leader of their pack but it is just a question of time before word starts leaking out that I know a thing or tTOo about things of matter, particularly “DARK MATTER” that distraction, too bright a light destroys the essence of our being, a mind a terrible thing to lose.


I am told that at midnight last night [January 7, 2003] Pacific Standard Time an agreement was “inked” and with one stroke of a mighty powerful pen that has the coffin of Ronald “The Finagle King” Perelman now permanently sealed. Mr. Perelman may not think he is “dead” in the current trend of thinking but in the age when tradition meant everything he is absolutely and positively out for the count. He and his minions have been nailed and I have not lost sight of his remaining fortune, dwindling however with each tick of the clock since no one in their “write” [sic] mind would do business with such a rapacious crook, certainly as long I can continue to stur the pot.


We are born with our names and we die with our reputations and when our reputation is dead we are caput and no one should pay any attention to us. Should offenders such as Perelman decide to walk down a street others should look right through them and if they so much as squeak then they should be treated as nothing more than a youngster spinning his wheels thinking to yourself, “How long will it take for him to grow up and realize that it isn’t the size of his car that attracts women as much as it is the size of his penus assuming he is already brainne dead” [sic].


Not everyone agrees with me but I make it my business to focus on those operating in the “negative” mostly leaving my supporters alone. Life is all about leverage, working with the negatives as well as the positives making certain that those in the negative don’t get left too far behind as the forces of nature can grab hold of anyone at any time and turn their world upside down. Negatives tend to balance out positives over time but there is only so much time one can devote to finding two negatives in order to make a positive which is why it is all but impossible to make up for lost time. Right now I am pressed for time to explain why I think there is little time left butt to kick butt, although this email to the executor of my estate begins to address the problem in no uncertain terms.


Nonetheless, I see opportunity everywhere not to turn spaceship earth around but to clean up all our acts beginning with ridding ourselves first and foremost of corrupt politicians to mention little of my penchant for picking winners and a 1000 batting average against losers, a rather impressive track record that pretty much speaks for itself. Making money in the stock market is not exactly my cup of tea given the fact that for every dollar made someone else loses a dollar, no matter what anyone else says even if it were to be the head of the SEC or former head for that matter.


My email list of approximately 360 names is a statistically valid sample representative of the world’s population and the feedback I have got proves conclusively that my website NextraTerrestrial.com is on track to be the number one website on the planet especially when I hear from folks like Stanford Law Professor Black to take him off my email list. Professor Grundfest also of Stanford University and a former commissioner of the SEC who has been bothered far more than Professor Black is at least smart enough to respond with, “Could I stop you? Professor Black, however, is one of the very few to have asked not to remain informed. He shares this spot with another South African gentleman who I was at school with by the name of Norman Lazarus whose first cousin I used to date. It has little to do with why or how she and I broke up some 30 years ago as much as it has to do with Mr. Lazarus knowing the knuckleballs I am about to start pitching so very close to home.


I would have thought that since Mr. Lazarus at least had the courage to date a “colored” lady who happened to be one of my mother’s models he would have grown in wisdom to know that it takes more than broad shoulders and “stiroids” [sic] to intimidate me. Why people would go to my website on average 5 times a day is something only those who go there can say for sure. Only you know who you really are and what interests you no matter what some member of the media might have to say.

Each one of the 360 odd people know exactly who I am although, for sure, some know me better than others. They include people I grew up with in South Africa some who I haven’t seen or spoken to in more than 25 years, there are also others who have known me only a few months, some just a matter of weeks who now want to hang out more with me and they know they are not getting what remains of my rather significant estate nor am I into sex with anyone but my “travel companion” who has me on the “shortest of leashes.”


I remain convinced, however, that it is humans who should be on leashes and as soon as someone gives me Mr. Ronald “Trash Bag” Perelman’s home address I will send him a custom made leash. So when you see him in the street and he isn’t wearing a leash say, “Come over hear and let me pat your ugly bald head. Now why aren’t you wearing the eMANandDOG.com leash that Mr. Gevisser sent you… naughty, naughty, pants on fire… Oh so you want me to go away, why don’t you simply either stay home or pay the piper. Mr. Gevisser I am told is in the process of setting up a charitable trust that will allow folks like you to deposit what remains of your ill-gotten gains, ipsophato when you meet your maker you can say you have at least tried to make amends. You are though on a sticky wicket because although you probably know little or nothing about the game of cricket you have already been bowled out and the umpires have taken the stumps in to the club house, i.e. no matter how much restitution you offer your fate is already probably sealed. According to Mr. Gevisser who says he took an elevator ride with you while you sought refuge amongst the gentiles on 66th and 5th Avenue before being dissed out on your ear back in early 1994, your organs were already quite stinky and by now you know how Mr. Gevisser thinks God delivers the final punch when he downloads what a shithead you have been and returns you to earth as an ant on the doorstep of 4 E 66th Street although it is possible the Hearst have now also moved out in search of safer heavens” [sic].


Now is the time for everyone as far away as the four corners of the earth to come together and “seize the day” and help send a message that “Enough is Enough” that it is “The meek with teeth shell inherit the earth


None of my mates growing up would have considered me the “class clown” nor would they have considered me much above the average “academically” but they knew I played a decent game of rugby keeping my head low and delivering the necessary punches when in the scrum. Never once do I recall, however, ever starting a fist fight with my hands but sometimes my “punch line” didn’t always sit well with the opponents as I mixed up my Hebrew, Afrikaans, but mostly my Latin when distraction was the only way to address superior and overwhelming forces, which is exactly what is going on right now in the chess game being played out with Iraq to mention even less the Koreans who must have at least someone in their government who didn’t suffer from infant malnutrition. The North Koreans are playing quite a brilliant hand given the fact that they have had their arms and legs chopped off which goes to show that there are other factors at play besides for eating right that lead men, mostly, to always wanting to resolve things by going to war. When, however, all is said and done, eventually the world will begin to focus once again on South Africa which sits today not only with the largest gold reserves assuming their Minister of Finance takes my advice and rescinds any future contract deals entered into while he and his colleagues were “brain dead” but weapons of mass destruction that could soon be in the youngsters’ hands.


It is hard for folks to know today how much is “put on” and how much “make up” will I allow when I eventually agree to sit down before a camera and respond to questions from the media but most who know me well, who have worked with me know for certain that when I mean business I mean business, but it took me a while to get to this point where I can articulate rather well the things that mean the most to me. For me to explain how I came up with GODdnaNAME and how it fits so well into a puzzle I been working on from when I have my first memories is tantamount to me taking you on an educational journey that has you placed inside my shoes and even then you might not have the same level of sensitivities that I have because mine have been developed over time and going backwards doesn’t really achieve much other than to frustrate.


It is much easier for me to go forward and describe the circumstances that led to me asking myself at a rather young age a simple question, “What is the meaning of life?” My fascination with this subject matter probably began around the time I started to see the reaction of my Jewish gentry to  Moc Crayfish” [sic] wondering who exactly was the clown or was it all one big put on from beginning to end and why did it mean entering into a contract with the devil to make ends meet? All the discussions seemed to go around and around in circles, making fun of this person and that person and who was doing it to who all while donning “Yamahas dNa tefellin” and eventually it came time to don camouflage, “every man for himself” although it was expressed more in terms of “If I am not for myself who is for me. And if I am not for myself who am I? If not now, then when?” Now it boils down to “who knew what and when did they know it?”.


Over time not much seems to have changed back in South Africa except that the age of white folks having facelifts and tummytucks has decreased to the point that everything pretty much stays the same, Teflon to boot. Reality though was just a few miles away from our second permanent residence which was just down the road from the University of Natal where the smartest thing I did was not try out for the rugby team since there were few Jewish guys good enough to play and it was doubtful any of them would lend me a hand if I let slip a phrase or two like “Amo, amos, amacunt” [sic] amassing though a collection of photos that tell it all.


The biggest shit head though in our community was a man by the name of Gunter Lazarus, Norman’s father’s brother and business partner and as previously mentioned the father of my very first girlfriend. Never once did Gunter who died fairly recently of throat cancer ever say a cross word to my face and it is very doubtful he would have said anything negative about me even if I had slept with his daughter who later had her run ins with the law while making her children bear the brunt of her sins and those of her parents while blaming her forgetfulness at a supermarket check out stand on one of her daughters.


My family was in fact a step up from the Lazarus’ in all respects at least until I was age 13 when my father’s family business was sold for a song, although there weren’t really many tears in our household since my mother had a bustling career and knew a thing or two about how to bring home the bacon.


I don’t subscribe to anyone paying for the sins of their father’s let alone what begets a mother or tTOo to miss her two front teeth whether the result of poor dentil hygiene or promises of not so gentile gentile and infantile men who impress upon many “colored” women raised in South Africa that the road to a happiness lay not show much in coveting leopard skin ornatments but by sucking up to men fulfilling God’s wishes for more of us to perform oral sex a degree or tTOo more advanced than condoms for effective birth control, much in the same way men could argue that God had to have had some meaning design in mind when moving the breasts closer up to the mouth.


Sum colored” women had their entire upper and lower front teeth removed saving both on grocery shopping bags as well as the amount of blows they would get to their head after the men had relieved them of their personal belongings and let alone hopes for a better life by converting their paychecks into playing checks with shots of alchol to boot, another courtesy of the white man with a heavy gun laidened hand heaving kuk on people of color whose thinning blood make them more susceptible to brain damage.


Pig was never part of our daily diet but no one in our family minced words when it came to referring to Gunter as “The Pig.” His brother was donned, “The Nog schleper” which is Yiddish for “just another leper who hangs on for the ride” although Bernard was not quite as ugly as Gunter. There wasn’t any Jewish household I was familiar with who didn’t share these sentiments about such despicable human beings yet for some reason everyone seemed a little  tTOo shy and intimidated to express much more than minced words to either one of these hot headed characters although there is one buddy person I know who still recalls standing up to “The Pig” when he pranced around the Jewish high school one day and told this friend of mine that he wouldn’t be welcome at the school dance if he brought along his “non-Jewish” girlfriend.


Dispersed amongst my writings are today clear explanations as to what caused this paralysis of the South African Jewish community to stand tall forgetting some of the basic tenants of Judaism that suggested in no uncertain terms that God is the Almighty, that God watches each and everything that we do including not standing up for what is right, failing to band together to root out evil, never to be enslaved, again. Hell is a completely foreign soil to Jewish people yet the Jewish community allowed a man from Hell to get the best seat in the synagogue, run roughshod over our headmasters and schoolteachers to mention in passing the silence that came to our dinner table when I would ask,


“So this guy david came along and with a sling and arrow knocked out this Philistine… So tell me how much were you paid to carry The Pig’s poisoned tipped arrows…ever wonder about the Cato Manor shanty town on the other side of the University” [sic].


The name Cato only began to resonate with me when I started taking Latin in high school where I learned about the “pitiless” foe of Julius Caesar and this champion of liberty and republican principles. My year may have been the last time Latin was taught as it was now being considered a “dead language” but it helped graphically depict a reality of several thousand years back that now existed pretty much in my backyard that first raised its ugly in 1948 just 3 years after the defeat of Hitler. What is important to note is that growing up I also learned to skate and understood that just like it didn’t pay to wear the class clown hat it didn’t make cents to step tTOo far out of line.


Today, Mr. “Circle” K has a double or quits bet going with me. I just won $16 on his “1 in 4” odds of making it through New Year and now has agreed to paying me $32 in the event I make it alive through this coming Passover although he told me just very recently that I my odds of no better than before thinking though to himself that I have more chance of holding up the entire nationwide chain of Circle Ks in one “swell move” and getting away “Scotch free.”


I am comforted though since I consider my odds off of survival still as good as anyone else out there including those watching the windmills power up all over the world who think even a war in a place like South Africa that is currently off the radar screen wont reach them. We are all in this space ship together and it is time we all got with the program.


[2] People don’t make doormats out of you. You make a doormat out of yourself. Before leaving front doors unlocked make sure the entire neighborhood is well fed and verify that the neighborhood watch group has trust in God as well in working hard and playing hard. "People who steal for a living are very careful about locking their doors."   Harry Orwell, 1972.

[3] Investing in one’s self, not relying on the whims of management with unproven “reserves” results in the highest internal returns to mention little of how it increase the heart rate that pumps rich oxygen into the brain. As with any investment it requires getting to know the management team. Consequently the need to team up with others like minded recognizing that






Neil. Gevisser


[4] Always Be Cool.

[5] Blood is as thick as experience. We have the ability to control the most precious resource provided to us from the moment we can stand on our own two feet and why the need for both parents to have a will that protects the child should either of the parents break their vows to let their children fly free unattached as soon as can be, promoting individual responsibility and putting into action simple slogans like, “Can’t is not in my vocabulary, the impossible shall be done, miracles take a little longer.”

I believe that God chooses our parents but it is up to each one of us to trust our own judgment right from the start and it begins with knowing one’s own body and not letting others decide whether in fact one is too sick to go to school while still finding the strength to play with friends unless of course it is to keep a lonely parent company. Well adjusted kids grow up to be well adjusted adults who learn to roll with the punches and know exactly when enough is enough including how hard to party.

As limitless as the mind is to dream, to resolve the problems of the universe, which are all there for the taking, it is, however, incapable of partying given poor conditioning. Malnutrition begins and ends with our heads and why our hair is the last spot to “loose it” in the war against over controlling parents, “use it or lose it.”

A will that has the children becoming responsible for their financial well being at an age where they can appreciate their own bodies, their most valuable asset, it also protects the other spouse from any abuse getting physical for if the testosterone gets out of control and results in a spouse’s death, not only will the surviving spouse run the risk of being forcibly moved out of town but the kids will receive a check that has the over controlling parent checkmated who will be forced to find a whole new bunch of friends who will ask,

“So I understand the need to have got rid of the idiot bitch but explain how she had the warewithal to cloth the kids so well while being 6 feet under. Really now you must have married a witch, wouldn’t you agree? Now go join the ministry, better yet go shoot a duck and while you are at I see no reason why you shouldn’t try at least shooting yourself in the foot and when that gets boring try some stretching like placing the barrel of the gun between your legs and when pulling the trigger kiss your ass goodbye.” [sic]

Keeping the world in check begins first with our own  families and then the circle is expanded until such time as everyone knows the golden rules, golden triangles the key to understanding motion to mention little of the importance of triangulation in us all becoming one and of course the McDonalds of the world could also benefit by getting a facelift or tTOo or simply flipping their sign and getting with the X as their stock plunges the result of kids getting schooled in BUSes and better playgrounds to mention in passing the importance of playtime with their friends.

Investing in ourselves begins with taking the time to know our bodies which is akin to learning how easy it is to prepare soup from scratch adding and mixing only the best of ingredients according to individual taste as opposed to eating out at a restaurant where one hopes the heat from the stove will dissipate the germs from unwashed hands to mention little of their being no safeguards in place from a warped mind hell bent on giving it back in spades for the ills done by previous generations.

Jesse Jackson is one example of someone who hasn’t learned very much since he spat on patrons’ food, still looking for handouts that ultimately end up mostly costing the poor whose mindset becomes one of entitlement. If ever there was an Uncle Tom amongst the Democrats in the United States it is unquestionably this rat who belongs in a hole, a very deep black hole is what I believe God will draft him into only once we are finished off exposing his behind to the NextraTerrestrial cold front.

As one heats up the soup one can keep adding stuff as long as the pan is big enough freezing what remains is always a good option which puts to rest the notion that one shouldn’t bite off more than one can chew. Learning at an early age to hold one’s tongue is a virtue taught to us from the beginning of time, “Tis better to let people think you to be a fool than to speak out and remove all doubt.” If one simply looks at those who spoke out against the ills of society too early in life to have mastered more than a trick or too no matter how inspired it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to work out that enjoying life doesn’t mean one has to go over the moon and risk life and limb.

NextraTerrestrial is about each one of us sharing our experiences lending a hand or too to those most in need and making the most outrageous, the most rapacious pay through the nose. And why shouldn’t folks like WarrenBail me Out” Buffet or Ronald “The Finagle King” Perelman or George Soros and Co be made to work soup kitchens?

With modern technology we can watch to make sure they clean their hands after going to the toilet to mention little of seeing whether they are peeing on the seat, at least having them wipe up. Soon it may be possible to make sure they clean their butt holes given the technology now available that has fiber optic cables being pulled along by miniature robots through the sewer lines. It’s been a while since I spoke with King Golden Jnr and for all I know this technology may have already found its way into the White House.

Mr. Golden is a die hard Democrat and remains embittered by not having acted crazy during the 1972 Democratic primaries and thrown himself off the flat bed trailer where he was standing alongside Senator Muskie and into the crowd to distract the media who had been brilliant enough to know how to get to the Senator’s soft underbelly.

Today the media is nothing more than an extension of the ruling elite with very few folks really speaking what is on their minds. There are, however, exceptions like Howard Stern who for all I know may in fact be towing the line since I don’t really listen that much to the radio either and although I own a TV it is not hooked up to anything at this time. Time is fast approaching stand still as folks around the world are looking for something more than more of the same.

Interesting things are happening to folks who know a thing or two about how the game is played and what it takes to be a winner is as telling as an electronic response from one of Mr. Golden’s closest buddies who happens to be a lawyer for the National Association of Broadcasters commonly known as NAB.

More than a decade ago Val, King and I came very close to crashing and burning soon after we entered Mexican airspace. We weren’t, however, flying in a private jet but I for one was as high as a kite having just begun to read Howard Stern’s Private Parts. A Mexican police officer on a motorcycle decided that we looked the part and pulled us over. Now I wasn’t exactly reading and driving and handed him the ashtray as he had requested, making certain though that the book was in full view. I wasn’t exactly thinking of bribing the police officer given some of the stories that were going around at the time of Federales planting drugs on innocent folks but nor was I willing to put my trust in my two companions who both happen to be rather well-schooled attorneys who probably believed they had more to lose than me even though I was the one who buttered the most bread.

Time is and has always been my most valuable resource and when I give of my time I always expect a rather healthy return and I was not in the mood for Mr. Golden deciding to be a hero or Val possibly reading this gentleman who was acting very proper the riot act although I seem to recall worry beads rattling like never before. On the other hand it could simply have been more brain particles falling out the result of their “open mindedness” nothing whatsoever to do with ties to the underworld.  Mr. Golden although raised Catholic has this thing about Jesus, which every so often he pulls out as though it was the real deal although he warned me in advance that my current “travel companion” was a “witch.”

He and I have done a deal or tTOo in our time but the best of the deals involved a now deceased friend who didn’t exactly get all that I thought he bargained for and the book I am writing Manager Minute One may address this point which must make Mr. Golden as nervous as when he was fidgeting in the back seat of my Jeep that like each of our vehicles has a history to it.

There is history being repeated everywhere we look and why we need to break away at times from those who we think we know best to smell the roses to check in with others who are not necessarily as enamored with their own self importance. Howard Stern perhaps more so than any other person in the media seems to have managed to keep his wit about him while others have simply caved in to the status quo. I for one believe it has a lot to do with his upbringing having been raised in a somewhat dysfunctional family but surrounded by a lot of black people who tTOo realize that life can be cut short at any moment.

It is the Zquestion of what makes us all different which has me today the most fixated since there is now more than ever little time to lose.  Should we go to war with Iraq before the stock markets tumble will make little or no difference given the current state of the world economy, bearing in mind that since birth we have been programmed to think that insurance protects us while doing nothing to engender responsibility. The collapse of the world’s insurance market will mostly impact western societies although there will undoubtedly be collateral damage throughout most regions of the world but the ones mostly affected are going to be the ones who are dependant on government to fill the pot holes since they soon wont even have a pot to pee in let alone worry about driving to work to mention little of the critical need to service the poor who will soon hit the streets knowing that waiting in line is tantamount to continuing towing the line.

The lifeline has simply evaporated mostly gone up in smoke in efforts to create dependency on the part of the poor, that somehow those with formal education know best how to feed folks who simply want to lead simple lives making ends meet. Once the masses come to terms with the fact that  our governments have been bought off by special interests groups having lined the pockets of a rapacious few who are now sitting on the sidelines waiting for the tired and downtrodden to collapse altogether and then run in and make a score or tTOo, we will have the makings of a Revolution never witnessed in modern day history that will make the French Revolution look more like a sit in which in fact it was.

The French Revolution brought about modest shifts, allowing the ruling elite to simply move into the shadows and hence we have “shadow governments” everywhere. There isn’t, however, much of a worldwide conspiracy going on for the simple reason that not everyone can be counted on to lie, steal and cheat. The fraud and corruption is in fact all very much contained and it all boils down to water. I happen to have “smoking gun – concrete evidence” of political corruption at the highest levels not of some French Legion distracted by girls with long legs but rather by a group of rapacious American businessmen with help of course from the French who are hell bent on dying the richest people in the world. The rigging of the recent Gubernatorial elections here in California is going to be all the proof of where the rot lies and how easy it is going to be get rid of it without there being any bloodshed.

The power of Internet has now removed the barriers that have kept the have-nots from getting what they deserve. Information is the prized resource that has kept the haves at their bay windows looking out at a sea that stores all that has gone before, that for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction, nothing gets lost in outer space it is all here for each one of us to grab on and when we link up those who have played it fast and loose will soon lose their breath as the rest begin to take deep breaths.

The younger generation cannot count, however, on the 60s generation to see them through the upcoming tough times because many from this generation lost their minds while over indulging believing that they had all the answers to the failings of the previous generation but who thought that taking acid and smoking pot like there was no tomorrow was what the world needed. What the world needs now is tough love and that is what we at NT are going to be dishing out, empowering the next generation to stand tall, that some of us fogies although having suffered some collateral damage have enough brain power left to generate a thought or two while serving up a series of Perfect Storms that will bring the world back into balance.

Why should the youth who are our future go to the trouble of experiencing other people’s mistakes who had their chance to change the world for the better and blew it? We need though to take care of the older generation to set an example for the younger generation who are getting fed up by the minute with all the same old kuk that makes many amongst the old stink.

Only God knows really what these folks were doing with their time and when they meet their maker they will not need much of a check up given I assume the technology God has handy that will download all the kuk stored in their organs that tell a rather dismal picture to a trained eye.

Even if God has difficulty reading in between the lines he will have I assume aides who can be trusted to read accurately the printouts which graphically chart the individuals ups and downs and how they recovered to mention little of how they usurped the power of their limited authority.

I assume that God also detests those who derive great satisfaction in exceeding the limits of their small authority, i.e. evil doesn’t come with a pointed tail and a pitched fork.

I also assume that God has got it down pat in terms of making on the spot decisions as to what to do with folks who have played it fast and loose with the truth, i.e. a rather ingenious pecking order that begins with those who have used their testosterone for no good will end up being little fishes although for those like President Clinton and Ronald “The Finagle King” Perelman they will remain in infamy as bottom fishes or possibly worms digging the underground to release the gases that keep the climate in check.

Man has walked quite a road since leaving the outskirts of Quamashoe, one of the locations near where I was born where the indigenous peoples were deposited as the white man withdrew the natural ores and then “gifting” mash potatoes, some schooling in a rotten tongue and a pair of sneakers bought from the local store owned and operated by the same folks who made off with their civil rights giving the man of the household and his family the privilege of serving the civilized as they spoke kuk about their dining room tables eating a whole lot of kuk and then sum.

I have come a long way myself since leaving Durban, South Africa, going on a quarter century ago, having met more than perhaps my fair share of celebrities and wannabees never, however, forgetting my roots paying ever so careful attention to the disease that ultimately held the tongue of the most evil man I ever knew who got his Footsak from me and then some.

We have to combat evil wherever we encounter it, never to sweep even the smallest of so-called “white lies” under the rug because it will eventually appear perhaps containing rat feces, which is deadly, even if boiled in Campbell Soup. Anyone breaking into any one of my establishments has now been fully warned.

[6] And what you are left with is a bunch of crybabies who think the world revolves around their particular currency to mention little of those not so smart to have figured out it is impossible to calculate the odds when the race has been fixed. It is a footrace for each one of us on this planet to line up their ducks and to stop playing the race card and have us all pulling together as one tribe wanting to build a whole new house from the bottom up. We need to be prepared, however, to do our own fishing for a while as the smart money exists the playing fields in search of safer heavens much like the current flight path of our planetary system which is moving further away with each tick regardless of whether some joker here on earth pushes the market up one day while preparing to ride a Perfect Wave the next knowing full well the end is “insite”, thinking that because their plate is full today it will remain so tomorrow. One man can survive a good 3 days without eating but without good drinking water his waste line will shrink with no end other than sitting on his rear end examining his rot.

So important this thing referred to as “Insight” which comes from staying in tune, maintaining a healthy mind away from the roaring crowd who gather because it is the “in thing” to do; more courting before marriage, better yet to settle matters outside of a courtroom setting.

[7] Be mindful of giving up a bird whose chirp scares off even the watchdog.