From: Gary S. Gevisser [gsg@sellnext.com]
Sent:
Saturday, February 08, 2003 7:10 PM
To: loismary “Garner” -- TV Network program director and owner of my dog’s brother.
Cc: rest
Subject: FW: Hi - THE MEEK WITH TEETH SHALL INHERIT THE EARTH

 

Lois hello to you. Back on Jan 25th I sent an email to Lynn Poston that contained hyperlinks to my “god” [sic] the brother of your “Kid”. I am known to kid around and also happen to care very much about our kids as well as our animals. I ended that email to Lynn letting her know that I would be contacting you.

 

Today is the 12 month anniversary of the last time I sat down with the kingpin-s behind the rigging of the last California gubernatorial elections just 3 months ago to the day.  We all use funny expressions like “Everything comes in 3s.” Making sense out of chaos is the nature of my primary business and of course I don’t believe in coincidences, certainly not as much as the primary colors which are probably glossed over a little too quickly in primary school.

 

I tend to make the most of all interactions including a meeting I just had earlier today on dog’s beach here in Del Mar with a fine young gentleman whose father comes from the island of Kaois which is just a “hope jump and a scotch” away from Samos my favorite Greek Island which is where Pythagoras is from[1].

 

I am currently having a smoothie at a local restaurant where I had a close call a few months back just 3 days shy of a showdown in Superior Court that should go down as another landmark case where I happened once again to be at the right place at the right time. On the way over I was walking across the street next to a couple where the man was talking about what it takes to draw to a right angled triangle, “You go right, left and then up and down.” He was wearing a baseball cap with “Barcelona” emblazoned across the forehead. My ex-girlfriend and best friend of sum 10 years currently lives in Barcelona. Her mother’s family comes from Samos Greace [sic] a place I consider very much “home turf” even though I don’t own any particular spot on this “Green Island.”

 

I am though someone who has gone from green-er pastures to even greener pastures all my life never really bargaining on ever wanting to be rich yet managing to do always better than simply keeping my head above water. I have though made my final real estate purchase in the southwest countryside of England in a town called Minehead which I happened to stumble across when visiting there in late 2001 just a couple of weeks before I became convinced that the French conglomerate Vivendi were in deep financial trouble.

 

There were many rumblings in the market to mention little or no follow up on the Hot Water War article in the June 2002 edition of Forbes Magazine but the actions of the CEO of one of its U.S. subsidiaries, U.S. Filter provided me with enough evidence to know that if I wanted to be another pig at the trough I could have shorted both Vivendi [V] as well as its 63% owned subsidiary, Vivendi  Environmental [VE] and made out like a bandit although what exactly would I do with say one or two billion dollars in addition to what I already have tucked under my belt?

 

I make it my business to keep mostly to myself letting folks know only what they need to know a far cry different to what many CEOs of public companies do each and every day which is to inform their shareholders on a need to know basis. I am pretty good at mathematics perhaps best represented in the way I play chess although I have yet to play anyone as good as say Bobby Fisher a movie our 10-year-old picked up last evening at the local bloc-buster. I happen to own bloc-buster.com as well as a host of other websites which I have yet to launch but the flagship www.nextraterrestrial.com is well on its way to upsetting the status quo albeit on track to be the number one website on the planet perhaps not tTOo far ahead of www.sellnext.com.

 

There are in fact less than a handful of folks out there who have a grasp of exactly what I do for a living other than play pong which is in fact what I have been doing for the past almost 10 years while spending most of my time with my “travel companion” who is a force to be reckoned with and then sum. She and my ex-girlfriend of 10 years know each other although not all that well and in fact share many things in common besides for being smart and beautiful. Neither of them lie, steal or cheat. It simply isn’t part of their nature. They are somewhat different however in terms of how they communicate. The ex-girlfriend is a brilliant writer and my current girlfriend is an artist-painter and better than your average stay-at-home mother who is now well on her way to making an impact on the world of art to mention little of her better than average grasp of mathematics.

 

Timing is everything in life and just like Pythagoras who made simplicity out of highly complex structures I am capable of making sense often out of nonsense never though losing my sense of humor for any length of time. I am currently working on the epilogue to my book Manager Minute One which I hope will help round out some of the looseness out there best described by God when he chose not to produce a perfect circle in the hope I believe that we would have the sense to pay attention to the dogs who continue at times to go around in circles perhaps just playing another trick of nature as they fuss over us fussing over them. What exactly came first as in Energy or Mass is perhaps not as important as understanding light.

 

I do get bored very easily and for two women to have put up with me with just one “quickie” girlfriend in between 2 decades is quite something, which few if any of my married friends could attest to at least with a straight face, and yes I am very heterosexual. I just got off the phone with the woman who is taking care of matters for me at Ccrest which will be my final resting spot in Minehead England who tells me that there are a number of folks interested in running our bed and breakfast café including two gentlemen who happen to be gay. What I liked most about them is the fact that they are both nurses and the one is supposedly a qualified ch.ef.

 

The nature of my business calls for me to exhibit a healthy skepticism always though giving someone the benefit of the doubt although some might argue also correctly that I give folks enough rope “to hand” [sic] themselves. My second trip to Peru last year was not as much as a cliffhanger as my first trip when I took my dog who we mostly refer to as Pypeetoe to Machu Picchu. I had only just got him from Kathy Lawson and with just a few dog training lessons under my belt had him high above the skies “enroot” [sic] from Los Angeles changing planes in Houston International Airport without the dog or his golf club leash once being checked, nor did I say anything more than, “It is a sight hound and of course I wouldn’t deprive my god from seeing the sights of Machu Picchu” [sic].

 

One has to remember this took place just 4 months after September 11th and something which was not lost on many folks when I recounted the many amazing stories that saved me more than just a bundle of cash, providing great material for my book Manager Minute One, yet somehow it all got lost on Roger Hedgecock the former mayor of San Diego and now a “shoe in” to take over from Rush Limbaugh. Not only has Roger failed to return to me the Pitching Wedge one of my prized possessions but with all his yentering he doesn’t yet quite know how best to hang to mention little of his failing to follow up on the “smoking gun” evidence in my possession of political corruption at the highest levels of the Democratic party.

 

Of course I am interested to hear what Roger will eventually have to say when he is confronted with what might have had him so distracted when I first broached this subject with him back on Valentine’s Day 2002 when my “travel companion” and I had dinner at his restaurant on 5th Avenue in the Gas lamp Distinct here in San Diego, celebrating both her birthday and Valentine’s Day all at the same time. Make no mistake my “travel companion” is capable of making any man’s head turn but none more so than her ex-husband who became so unglued back on October 24th of last year when he realized how very smart his second ex-wife was in not beating around the bush.

 

No doubt I am attracted to both beauty and brains paying very careful attention to the Freudian slips folks make along the way in their efforts to overpower and how it came to pass that we have such nonsensical expressions creeping into our vocabulary like, “The Meek Shall Inherit The Earth.” I happen to believe that the bible is perhaps the most accurate record of God’s words but when the elders, those who have consumed more than their fair share start coming up with commentaries to explain what are very straightforward words that is when I begin to take a very deep breath before unleashing a series of knuckleballs against which there can be almost no response and of course a non-response is a response even if it isn’t even considered “hearsay” in a court of law.

 

Although I have no legal qualifications I know a thing or two about common cents” [sic] although there is nothing really a commoner can do when the laws are created to protect the rapacious few. Roger Hedgecock like others copied on this email have been receiving now a whole host of emails that first began on December 1st 2000 to coincide with the 27th anniversary of the death of David Ben Gurion.

 

I can assure you there was nothing funny being discussed back on February 8th 2002 to mention little of what documents were placed in front of me that day. Time and space really converge in basic physics but those of us in tune with metaphysics fine tune things in the real world that simply are lost to those focused on steroids or other type enhancers to get them through the day. Once one has mastered the highs of prescient timing there is really only sex left to discover and of course it is all about the battle of the sexes.

 

It does take surrounding oneself with special people in order to uncover “smoking gun” evidence. This is not the first time I have uncovered a conspiracy that I never sought out in the first place but it is the first one that I believe will capture the imagination of the masses and lead to a paradigm shift in the way we not only go about electing and holding our politicians accountable but more importantly how we place responsibility & accountability back in the hands of the electorate.

 

First though we have to build trust with those closest to us beginning first with trusting our own judgment making certain that the children are raised right from the start and taught about what is right and wrong in very practical terms. Taking care of animals seems as good a start as any in producing well balanced children to mention little of the importance of good nutrition including never allowing one’s animal to overindulge. It is so much easier to say “yes” to anything than it is to say “no” although if kids were summarily passed through hospital wards soon after they become “compos mentis” [sic] and see what happens to people who can’t get enough of a good thing perhaps we wouldn’t have the situations where we see humans behaving much like animals, moreover the facts are rather conclusive that animals treat their young far better than we do and naturally I subscribe to us dispensing with leashes on dogs and at least make a point of suggesting to dog owners who have poor control on animals that they try wearing a leash for a day and let their dog lead them to the promised land.

 

I received last evening a call from JW “English” [sic] of KGTV [ABC Network affiliate] just before heading in to the parking lot of the sushi restaurant we like so much. One of the reasons why I like going to this particular sushi bar besides for always counting on the fish being fresh is that I get an override on every piece of dirt picked up by a buddy of mine. He has one of these sweep cleaning businesses that picks up after people who may have missed a lesson or tTOo in their potty training. Lionel is someone I have known a lifetime and when I first came to this country I not only worked with him but he was kind enough to let me live with him[2].

 

I am not the easiest person in the world live with but as you know everything is relative. I have though in a space of almost 20 years had just 2 relationships with only one girlfriend in between. I mention this again because it is only going to be a question of time before the folks from Wetherly Capital and their “big hitting hackers” [sic] decide they have no choice but to go to the mattresses[3].

 

My hope though is that cool minds will prevail but I am taking the precaution of keeping the documentation that came out of that particular meeting on February 8th under very careful wraps to the point that even if my dog were to chew on the originals there are copies in safety deposit boxes both here in California and elsewhere in the event of a catastrophic earthquake[4].

 

My plan for keeping everyone calm is rather simple. I will be hitting these out of control-rapacious folk with both overwhelming and superior forces that are designed to send shock waves from here to Timpucktu and back again. Ordinarily the spell check on my computer will send red lines flashing when I type the letters “puck” but for some reason now it is beginning to accept it. My hope is that the masses will no longer accept the status quo and the type of daily nonsense put out by the media.

 

The media business is one I know inside out and of course I know why folks like JW “English” [sic] are running scared right now. I have kept the message he left on my voicemail and once I have clearance from my lawyers I shall play it for the world to hear, time and again, to mention little of his Freudian slip-s[5].

 

It is possible that Mr. “August” [sic] is simply overworked in which case he will have the opportunity to voice his protest but my guess is that he will find assistance from the National Association of Broadcasters [NAB] who in my opinion operate no differently than the Bureau of Special Services [BOSS] did during the Apartheid years in South Africa, banning anyone and everyone who dared to call it right.

 

Even though I am typing at blitzkrieg speed I am choosing my words carefully just like Judge Jack Weinstein in a landmark case attributed my “prescient timing” to bringing about the overturning of a multi-million jury award that put to an end some 2,000 class action lawsuits that were pending at the time.

 

I am not perfect but when I make a mistake I expect to pay for it and I make it my business to make others pay when they screw up. I do my best to keep things simple but few would describe me as stupid at least not to my face. It doesn’t take a genius to work out that the meek don’t inherit the earth and why it is difficult to believe anything coming out of the mouths of folks who have allowed their teeth to go to rot. Evil comes in many forms but it all begins with the white lies until we end up turning a blind eye not only to what folks like Hitler have to say but how a poor artist with dark hair and brown eyes could pull the wool over so many especially my Jewish brothers & sisters who have a history of some 2,000 years of abuse to draw from.

 

Every so often I have to pull up paying very careful attention to the signposts and what people I trust implicitly have to say. Many English expressions made little sense to me including the one, ”like pulling teeth” to mention little of the difficulty involved in “kicking a gift-horse in the mouth.” I believe it was a relative of our two dogs that died of an “abyss” [sic] in the mouth but right now I can assure you we are all headed for disaster but there is time once we decide to pull up our socks and start counting right, paying attention to things that matter and some very smart folks who came before us such as Pythagoras.

 

I have smoked pot but I don’t go around in circles. That last hyperlink was taken close to 30 years ago and of course I’ve lost some hair but I still have sum marbles left.

 

Even this email is part of the finishing touches to my book Manager Minute One that we should be our own managers from the get-go. Most folks would assume that MMO had its origins going back to the late 1980s when I was brought in to head up the restructuring team for Epi Products the ”wonder company” that came from nowhere and went out quicker than anyone could light a match, although some might conclude after they have read my book that my actions were not designed to allow folks who play it “fast and loose” to continue being “pigs at the trough.”[6]

 

One other thing I think you should know at this time besides for now being in possession of some very key evidence is that prior to leaving me a message last night I already had two conversations with JW “English” [sic]. Mr. “English” [sic] followed up on my suggestion that he contact one of my lawyer colleagues Mr. Jeffrey Krinsk who gave Mr. “English” [sic] a full half hour of his time. Quite frankly I was shocked that Mr. Krinsk would be so liberal with his time since it [is] only on very rare occasions my conversations with him exceed 5 minutes and when they do he and I are mostly playing pong with each other.

 

I will be following up with Mr. “English” [sic] in due course but suffice to say you do in fact have a leg up on him given your access to some of my hyperlinks. There is enough information in just this email to sink a battleship.

 

Please be advised that I am including on this email a number of very carefully selected individuals who make up a statistically valid sample representative of the world’s population who are all in some small measure playing a role in keeping my one website www.nextraterrestrial.com on track to be the number one website on the planet.

 

Naturally I am taking precautions to protect not only the integrity of the evidence but my own well-being to mention little of those folks I care about. The fact is I care about everyone knowing that if we leave just one individual out in the cold that individual might be enough to ignite a bomb that could send us all back to the year dot. I happen to believe there are some very practical solutions to solving the problems of the world but first we have to take back the reigns of power from our dirty politicians who are bought and paid for by a handful of corrupt business people who have no allegiance to anyone or any country other than filling up their pocket books.

 

The nature of my one line of work requires that I pay very careful attention to the numbers as well as what folks say ever so attentive however to what they don’t say. Of course many would prefer, “Less said the better” although there are a handful of folks out there who would prefer that I simply keep quiet and live out the rest of life peacefully. And naturally I could be very more than simply “very rich.”

 

The folks who rigged the elections back on November 8th of last year were in fact hard at work going back to the Summer of 2001 and that Special Situations Fund document has that aspect clearly demarcated. There are names though on that one sheet that some of my attorney-colleagues including the one I mostly play pong with who wouldn’t argue that I could settle matters with those that rigged the elections for more than a paltry sum. And then what would I do next especially since I happen to believe that God watches each and every move we make?

 

I don’t always make my own bed but neither am I lazy. More importantly I don’t scare easily and nor am I crazy. I not only understand rather well the inner workings of the media business but what sort of folks would join an organization like NAB who are not exactly interested in a true broad band network that will allow “fair competition.”

 

In late 1993 I did an assignment for the Hearst family who had hired a former chairman of the FCC to head up one of their “new media” companies. Included in that 3 page document was a reference to why there was all this “frenzy” by media companies to acquire other media in anticipation of the “last quarter mile of the superhighway.” I don’t have that document with me right now but it stated in not so many words, “Management in their effort to obfuscate non-stellar performance oftentimes engage in mergers-divestitures such that after a quarter or so not only is comparative analysis all butt impossible but in the end the shareholders will get it in the shorts” [sic].

 

My E-mail the other day to one of my attorneys over in Europe spells out things in black and white on a number of different agendas I have going all geared toward to empowering the youth who are our future [to parent the parents most in need, in some instances whose wants have greatly exceeded their needs]. My prescient timing in calling the collapse of the insurance industry should be actually comforting to those who are good at what they do and don’t depend on others for putting food on the table least of all folks like our government and the likes of Warren “BO” Buffet and even Hank Greenberg who I happen to believe is head and shoulders more ethical than Buffet.

 

Everything however is relative and until such time as we learn to get along and begin trusting one another we don’t have a hope let alone a prayer or even a wing to hold on to especially those who wear many hats. It is in fact soft tissue injuries that will ultimately bankrupt the insurance industry and few understand that aspect of the insurance business better than me. Most if not all pain especially when it comes to the extremities, particularly the arms and hands is referred pain coming from the scalene muscle in the neck, the result most often of sitting in front of TV screens typing away without thinking to stretch.[7]

 

It takes quite a stretch to understand all the methods I am using in getting my message across but don’t think for more than one minute that I am full of it for the simple reason that I am. I do, however, get mad as hell with folks that think they can screw around with me by either ignoring me or trying to usurp the power of their limited authority.

 

With that said, feel free to conduct your own due diligence on me. Besides for Mr. Krinsk who could be in the mood for another game of pong try emailing my mentor Amos Wright at mad.w@prodigy.net. You might even want to consider contacting any or all of the Washington Bunch folks although its been a while since I have seen any of them. They would fall under the category of “lefties” although Roger Robinson was a member of the National Security Council during “Regaines” [sic] first term in office although I am not certain exactly how much intelligence was actually shared with the former president and who were the ones shaving the truth. You may recall that President Reagan once confused one of his movie roles with his own actions during WWII which didn’t exactly encompass the same dangers as those of my good friend Amos Wright who was both a marine and Navy Officer and saw more than his fair share of bogies tumbling from the skies.

 

We are all allowed to make mistakes as long as we pay for them and we should do our best not to repeat. President Bush’s father made a critical mistake when he broke his promise not to increase taxes but he made an even bigger mistake when he pardoned Casper Weinberger who is probably the most responsible for Jonathan Pollard, the Israeli spy, still sitting in jail. Pollard probably did more to screw up his mind than being a traitor to the United States Navy in that he thought he could rely on the Israeli government to see his time in jail brought to a quick end.

 

When any government allows crooks into its ranks, where it turns a blind eye to crooks who in escaping justice in other regions of the world find a safe haven on their own shores let alone a burial spot on your most sacred places like Mt. of Olives it is no small wonder that they cannot see the wood for the trees let alone know when it is time to flee.

 

Should you manage to get through to any members of the Washington bunch don’t hesitate to ask them about the series of E-mails I sent to each one of them beginning back on December 1st 2000 to coincide with 27th anniversary of the death of David Ben Gurion who decried that “The children of Israel be a light unto the nations.” There are a number of things that have them upset with me none perhaps more so than the fact that had they followed my “LUK” they would never have to work let alone fear each time they open up email[8].

 

Today the world can produce more than what we can sell and consequently the markets all around the world are on the brink of collapse, basic laws of supply and demand but I cannot stress enough we can solve the problems of the world in probably less than 18 months if folks simply listen up.

 

It is not always easy for me to explain my prescient timing but I have lately made it a habit of keeping a record of all my communications. Back on November 15th of last year I sent my one programmer Adam an E-mail responding to his ”Are you Ok?” This particular series of communications covers quite a lot of ground but I think you would find my discourse 9 paragraphs down somewhat interesting beginning with, “There are two captains right now steering two identical courses. At some point they are going to collide.” 4 days earlier I sent a doctor cousin of mine an email letting him know that despite his penchant for picking winners, most notably his three children my plate was already getting rather full.

 

This particular cousin is rather close to my Dad, his mother who is now deceased and my Dad were as close as a brother and sister could be. One has little choice when it comes to picking siblings let alone parents and I make it my business to stay in touch with folks whenever possible preferring these days to stick with the Digital Age in communicating my innermost thoughts. Telephone conversations tend to take up time and with all the distractions going on who really pays attention to what the other person on the line is really saying let alone meaning. On November 21st I followed up with my Dad who my cousin had visited with when vacationing recently in South Africa.

 

It is, however, my email to one of the most special people in this world on December 11th that has a number of folks paying very careful attention to what I might say next. There are some very minor modifications to the original email. Footnote 6 explains things in rather graphic detail about the odds of us getting out of this financial crisis without first of all making some rather significant adjustments including going back to the Gold Standard. My emails to the folks from MONEX should give you some sense of why few people would ever want to go to war with me or anyone close to me such as my “travel companion friend” aka Mds.

 

I have known for some time that the price of gold was headed upwards but again I am not one to be a pig at the trough. Yesterday I suggested Mds make a few more purchases of gold including a 1932 South African sovereign that first spelled trouble for the world although the real trouble began when we allowed Hitler to kick our behinds.

 

Lois, there is more I could say but my batteries are running out and it is time for dinner. I suspect tomorrow will also come about.

 

All the best

 

Gary S. Gevisser

 

 

Ps - I don’t have the time to read through this email. If, however, I think there is an error or tTOo, or something which needs more clarification I will let you know.

 

 

 

 

 

 

-----Original Message-----
From: Lynn K. Poston [mailto:kalons@pacbell.net]
Sent:
Saturday, January 25, 2003 7:23 PM
To: Gary S. Gevisser
Subject: Re: Hi

 

Hi Gary

My website is below (in the signature file).  Lois' email is loismary@rglobal.net

The boy's brother (aka Kid) is in the Photo Album - CH Kalon's Azuwyn Knight L'Chaim.  Grand-pa was (Bandit)  Am & Int'l CH Kalon's Moonlight Knight.  Mimi was Int'l CH Kalon's Moonlight Maiden.  All Bandit's children have 'Moonlight' in their registered name

 

Lynn K. Poston
kalons@pacbell.net
http://www.geocities.com/kalonchinesecresteds

==========================

Xoloitzcuintli Club of
America
http://www.geocities.com/xoloclub

 

 

 



[1] There is a shop in the southwest countryside of England in the village of Minehead called Chaos which caters to young kids. Last night my “travel companion” and I along with her 10-year-old son who I have helped nurture since he was 18 months old, ate at a local sushi bar where we were informed by another customer of the varying scales of “cold sake” much like what one finds with scotch.

 

My Dad likes his J&B and one doesn’t have to wonder much to realize where he derived his good taste. He happens to have been a rather good fighter-bomber pilot and remains as trusting today as that last hyperlink depicts and is still above-average in looks once one adds color to his face.

 

I certainly don’t have my Dad’s good looks nor would those who have been on the receiving end of my emails over the past 3+ years consider me quite as humble as this incredible man who beat the odds, continues to have women eating out of his lap although he refuses to wear a serviette and continues to come out tops at least in my book, although his record of accomplishments is best described in his logbooks during WWII to mention little of his ability to keep his head above him while others lost it in their pants and then sum + +.

 

Like both my parents I can add rather good butT once Manager Minute One has been edited it won’t take a rocket scientist to know how incredibly fortunate I was in having tTOo terrific parents not always in-sync butt who nevertheless guided me right during my formative years and of course it helped to have 3 siblings running interference.

 

Cultivating common sense is simply a function of  Healthy mind ~ healthy body and of course my mother would agree the reverse holds true just as in Quantum Mechanics.

 

It is, however, my Dad who accepted every challenge dished out to him rising above it all to become not only a fighter-bomber pilots while still a teenager as most from his home town of Durban, South Africa either sat on the sidelines or ended up as prisoners of war but more importantly his skills and what it takes to have others trust you would be fined tuned as a “wingman” to one of the greatest fighter-bomber-pilots of the 2nd World War.

 

According to my Dad, Syd Cohen was, “outgoing and always humble.” Fighter-bomber-pilots were more than a cut above regular fighter-pilots who in turn where a good notch more skilled than pilots flying in troops and ammunitions. Syd Cohen would later be sought by the likes of David Ben Gurion, Israel’s first Prime Minister who advocated that the “Children of Israel be a light unto the nations.”

 

Unlike my Dad who in 1948 was still recovering from the death of his mother, Katie Sher Gevisser, Dr. Syd Cohen fought in Israel’s War of Independence and then settled with his family in Israel while my Dad married my mother, a chain-smoking English transplant who came to South Africa in 1947 with her brother and parents to escape the harsh winters although you wouldn’t have noticed my mother’s childhood addiction it from her good looks and a figure that had a whole lot of women in the fukukta town of Durban eyeing her with envy.

 

Zena Ash Gevisser, a good looking blonde with a head for numbers to match her good figure and a mind never to boot, unlike her brother, a rather good politician who eventually got the boot from his fellow city counselors who didn’t care for someone knowing no better than to rock the boat, failed to don a tan having no doubt learned the lessons of the English red necks during the Boer War of 1899-1900, i.e. duck low, later married Alan Zulman and became Zena Ash Gevisser Zulman or simply ZZ.

 

Joe Ash, my mother’s brother, was quite the party man when living in Umchlanga as well as when he moved to the Durban Bluff and watched over as commodore of the Durban Yacht Club all vessels entering and leaving Durban harbor with jewels galore. Joe had an endless supply of some of South Africa’s most beautiful women showing up in the oddest of places which goes part and parcel when mixing in the “whose who” [sic] of circles.

 

Councilman and eventually deputy mayor to sure up his footing in the gentry set, Durban, Natal being the last Colonial outpost perhaps in the world, Joe Ash “constantly” married “out of the faith”, his first wife Aida Parker, a journalist, a women I never heard anyone in our family say a bad word about.

 

I don’t remember meeting this horrific woman with good looks but no doubt my mother in particular knew that there was nothing to be gained by taking on a journalist with brains despite Aidas right of right wing views and who comes as close to looking like Eva Braun than anyone I know “dNA” [sic] I guess it is possible Aida “SS” Parker could be related to Ms. Braun and nothing would give me more pleasure than to give Ms. Parker a haircut or tTOo although it is possible she is now dead. Her brain though unquestionably turned to rot. The real question is when did it all begin.

 

This is probably as good a time as any to begin making the case The Big Bang may be a series of events or experiments by a master painter wanting to perfect his art. Each event begins with a squeeze of his hand that then drops oil paints on to his pallet. He may be so talented that he doesn’t always need to start out with a new canvas but is able to paint over his previous attempts to create the perfect masterpiece that requires only 3 elements to get in to perfect synchronicity.

 

He begins with the shape, drawing out a road map that channels in all the right elements making sure he has the horizon correct and that the center of interest is in fact interesting and then he sets in the values, the varying shades of gray that remain a constant no matter what changes of light occur and of course he understands that operating in the rain or under moonlight has it hazards but lets just assume for the moment that God is not blind and whoever came up with justice being blind should rethink matters and have that artist go back to the drawing board and start adding color never though using either white or black but getting the art of painting in high chroma down pat, moving away from white and the black which brings out the richness of the colors.

 

Remembering though that the “values” always remain constant is not for the light headed nor for that matter can someone really call themselves an artist painter if they don’t know how to draw and the last thing I would want is for God to think I am telling him off for it doesn’t seem to me at least that he missed anything in his latest masterpiece.

 

Unlike sound which brings music to our ears only light can travel effortlessly through a vacuum which is what deep space is made up of and there is certainly a lot of negative space that is kept in balance, matter and anti-matter canceling one another out allowing the point of interest, i.e. planet earth to remain the focal point and with his grasp of colors and knowledge of light all God needs to do is simply squeeze and release his hand depending on his mood ever so careful not to throw too many curved balls that could make his canvas get too slippery which would force him to go back to the drawing board, scrape off the excess paint, turn once again the canvas upside down and begin again although I suspect he might decide to take a breather, relax with his dog and see how his other paintings are selling in those galaxies billions of light years away where unlike homo sapiens who whine so much these Nextraterrestrials have got their shit together and figured out far quicker than us that Einstein’s e=mc² explained the entire workings of the universe and didn’t get blindsided by their own mirrored reflections thinking that they were smarter than the next person who has something to offer and more importantly is part of the overall puzzle, i.e. God is DNA.

 

One has to though see things differently right from the start and not buy into the mistakes and bullshit of the previous generation that got caught up into thinking that their accomplishments are all of their own doing forgetting that discovery is a matter of physics and chance all brought together in Quantum Mechanics where “light forces” are what is keeping all our heads above water right now for Chaos Theory is completely topsy turvy and folks like Warren “BO” Buffet know today more than the fact that their shit stinks a whole lot worse than folks say in the countryside of Peru although it is certainly not fun starving to death.

 

Without much further ado I will get back to what I believe has God’s hand just fractions away from squeezing his hand once again having learned some valuable lessons of human nature when people get tTOo big for their boots and why the next time round the cobbler’s son will have at least one pair of shoes and greed to boot although he will have to come up with a remarkable substitute for testosterone which does come in handy once in a while.

 

The need to feel superior over others is not uniquely human but our wants to accumulate beyond our basic needs sets us more than a world apart from other species that has us now on track towards a Big Bang best demonstrated in our military’s arsenal that could soon have us all kissing our asses goodbye.

 

For God to take away our fear of dying which I believe is central to most overweight peoples’ discontent leaves him with few choices in terms of motivation central to the evolutionary process of improving the species as we head further out into the wilderness of deep space as the rest of the billions of galaxies get further away doing their own thing. The survival of the fittest is a key element in us becoming self-sufficient and my guess is that he will when the time comes for our sun to burn out use a Black Hole to move over another sun that is simply languishing.

 

Once one applies e=mc² to the physics of deep space it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to work out that c, the speed of light is anything but a constant proven out by the Red Shift which tells us beyond a shadow of a doubt that the other galaxies are speeding away from us at an accelerating rate and that we had better get our shit together rather quickly or we will end up eating dirt if we are lucky most likely it will be sand as the desert winds suggest time and again.

 

Our failure to pay attention to the call of nature whether it be when going to the bathroom or listening to the birds sing or a dog dreaming goes to the heart of what occurs when we build up our strength believing that that might is right that the sword is mightier than the plough when in fact it is the pen along with the hand of God that is mightiest never to give in to wanting to die rich and to leave a legacy beyond a Golden  name.

 

For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction and everything particularly in a vacuum remains the same and why m, as in mass, is the constant which leaves e, energy, best viewed in wave form that goes back and forth depending on the sun + the wind + the currents = climate.

 

When one places a vacuum tube around a light bulb as Edison so smartly figured out light will glow indefinitely as long as one controls the environment and planet earth has all the necessary ingredients to get it on indefinitely but it requires bringing rapacious folks under control who upset the balance of nature who want it all to nothing who view life as nothing more than a poker game winner takes all forgetting everything including fundamental science that was gifted to us along with the Garden of Eden.

 

Maintaining our edge is key but it shouldn’t come at the expense of others who may not be as light footed but who nevertheless contribute to an overall kaleidoscope that is rich with diversity and why the need to hold those bigoted, those who have allowed their formal education to interfere with their learning in constant check.

 

E=MC² is both proof of the “Hand of God” as well as evolution and Love to boot, differences to embrace, kindness to those who are kind and to those whose egos are out of control to place them in spaceships where they can go figure out a better method than the one I am proposing for bringing the world into balance.

 

And of course we should continue to check out other websites who have better solutions than NextraTerrestrial although I doubt they will have as good looking women as I plan to load up thinking of which I hope to find a photo of Bob Guccione’s wife who once I understand was a dancer at the Butterworth Hotel in Durban, South Africa.

 

So back to my mother who recognized a brilliant journalist the minute she set eyes on Eva Braun reincarnated who in this photo seems to have all eyes pointed in the direction of my father. At first blush one would have expected Ms. Parker to have been the perfect person to expose the deep rot within the Jewish community especially after my uncle dumped her and he at the time was not exactly all that pro Jewish causes, certainly he was not a member of the Durban Jewish Club that I don’t recall once hosting a fashion show put on by mother who I don’t seem to recall there ever being a Jewish model other than my first cousin Karene Gevisser who despite her incredible looks and body that made most Jewish boys’ eyes foggy never quite made it into the jet set like many others who didn’t quite pencil out perfect in all respects.

 

The fashion business though is a “mug’s game” and no where is it more apparent than what one sees today walking the down the ramps in the fashion capital’s of the world where transparency has been taken to the ultimate extreme.

 

Soon I expect to see models wearing their hearts outside of the chests and their uteri positioned for the photographers to click away at while depositing their business cards in the handbags that contain the colons; semi-naked is really all us heterosexual guys want just ask anyone whose significant other has more of an underwear collection than mini-skirts.

 

Skating on thin ice is akin to overdoing a painting and when the colors get all blurred as is often the case when painting in high chroma you might as well trash the painting, forget signing it and start afresh.

 

And of course that is what is so wonderful about new relationships, at least at first before one comes to realize that beauty is all skin deep and then some.

 

It is all a matter of choice and why kids should be guided ever so carefully from the start to learn about right from wrong, to avoid at all cost becoming “diks” for parents to let go of their need to control to understand better the workings of the universe that demonstrate beyond a shadow of a doubt that each generation has more light bulbs going off than the previous one that to fiddle, assuming the “hot house effect” doesn’t take hold, with just one individual though capable of setting off a chain reaction that not even the smartest of “F.euds” [sic] out there can even begin to fathom and why fiddlers should watched ever so closely especially those with art or engineering degrees who think they are so smart they can figure out the mechanics of human nature just because they can screw a nail in better than someone who figured out that a hammer was a pretty neat invention just like the Russians figured out that charcoal works just as well in outer space as it does on earth, the same with a rocket ship able to operate outside of earth’s atmosphere, another of Newton’s principles at work.

 

Hitler was the personification of art genius who didn’t have a clue about how to draw let alone understand mastery of his first passion although he clearly knew how to draw from the rot that had been spewed about Jews and Gipsys to mention little of his thing for preferring white skin to overcome his own foreshortening.

 

Hitler and I may in fact have quite a bit in common although he may have been an inch or two shorter and as we know from my dog Pypeetoe just one inch can make all the difference but I am not so sure about his math, certainly he had to have been one of the worst military planners in the annals of history.

 

Not only did his generals have the Poles taking care of the business of rounding up the Jews, the French men aimlessly sipping their cappuccinos all the while pontificating on where to next drop off Legionnaires disease while the French women pranced around in mid-drifts knowing nothing better than to air their fannies by lifting their legs, perfume to boot, the British intoxicated with their booze and horrific food, yet this idiot decided,

 

“Lets let the RAF boys get some rest and lets test the mettle of German Industrial Machine by taking on the Russians who may have forgotten their history, hysterectomies just another form of bloodletting, wouldn’t you agree, Mr. Geviseris” [non-sic]?

 

Py-pee-toe was one inch tTOo big at birth to become a show dog which turned out to be my luck but I then again I don’t believe at all in luck but rather in playing the odds, more specifically taking someone’s trash and making it shine no different in many ways to my grandfather Issy Gevisser who rather than see the glass as either half full or half empty simply decided to grab hold of a discarded wheelbarrow, fixed the front wheel assembly and in a matter of minutes had filled it up with unbroken bottles that eventually led to him building enough of a trading business that not only supported his growing family in South Africa but those relatives left in Vilnius, Lithuania who despite his pleas to come to join him chose to remain and Issy’s second wife in turn chose to bury the past rather than let all the facts sur-face.

 

Unlike animals us humans have developed quite a knack for being tTOo faced somehow believing that no one else is looking despite the vast majority believing in God, at least some superior force which simply doesn’t add up even for someone like myself who has so little formal education in math and physics let alone metaphysics.

 

Although I have handled a book or two on subjects like yoga I haven’t felt the need to waste my time in reading even one page since it stands to reason that most if not all of what these “yogy bears” [sic] have to say make sense.

 

I happened to run into David Shannahof-Khalsa just the other day while walking along the beach. It wasn’t so much that I liked his turban but my dog just wouldn’t leave him and his dog alone and David was tugging at his dog’s choke collar and I thought the only way for his dog’s head to remain attached to his shoulder blades was to try and distract David by getting into a conversation that led no where other than I did remember the name of his website, Theinternetyogi.com.

 

David is really a sweet person and I assume very knowledgeable about yogi certainly he says that many in the medical and scientific community have embraced his findings although I had a lot more trouble getting the math out of him than I did when speaking with Dr. Kelly of Scripps Research who took no more than a matter of minutes to share with me all the necessary evidence that demonstrates beyond a shadow of a doubt that those with less intelligence are more susceptible to degenerative diseases.

 

Theinternetyogi, however, had me climbing walls as he ducked and dived eventually simply conceding that he was happy with his life knowing that at least a few stragglers like myself might pay attention to his lifetime accomplishments to mention little of whether he now has the sensitivity to go get some dog training not for his dog but for himself.

 

Now in fairness to David, fortunately or unfortunately, a female friend of his walked over just as my dog finished doing a pee on David’s sandal and provided me with some rather good insight which I was already well aware of but who I am hoping will take a break from walking up and down our already overcrowded beaches and head up to Sacramento carrying placards suggesting in no uncertain terms that Governor Davis resign, the French stooge that his is.

 

Pypeetoe has this thing for stool pigeons and of course I have yet to work out fully this fascination with horse dudu that must have something to do with meatmincers.

 

Most would agree that just like the women in my life my dog is picture perfect although just like the women he is far better looking in the flesh and of course he knows exactly how to suck up to people although he has the most uncanny ability to sniff out when things are amiss which is the only time he gets skittish and then I bring out the bagpipes although I simply howl like a wolf and before long I have him reaching notes that in time could bring down the walls of Jericho. He certainly has the pitch right it is just a matter of turning up the volume.

 

I have yet to feed him pig perhaps in the hope that like Einstein as he gets older he may embrace Judaism much like many disaffected in their youth and of course I keep the instructions to him short and sweet although at times I have been known to give him a commentary, a byproduct of my poor upbringing.

 

Ms. Parker though erred more than once besides for marrying my uncle with a more worldly vision than her verkrampt narrowmindness no doubt brought on by her fixation on everything being “black or white.”

 

 It was English speaking whites like Aida Parker with her unique command of the English language that helped the right wing mostly illiterate Nazi Nationalists stay in power for some 40 + years giving them an air of respectability as she bent over backwards to grease the wheels that had this oppressive regime sticking her dudu up the backsides of the Black masses, her access to the power elite best demonstrated while visiting prisoners at the notorious Robbin Island in 1966-1967 at the behest of her ultimate benefactors,

 

“…We know that by 1986 the necklace had become the biggest cause of death in the Black conflict.. SA, unlike most other countries where political hypocrisy and humbug get short shrift, is a very special and rare case of a duplicitous international hypocritical conspiracy. Many governments did indeed consider it to be in their commercial or political interests to support the international campaign against apartheid, even as the phenomenon evaporated in South Africa. Why? Because race was at the centre of the debate, just as it lies at the centre of the most serious threats to the stability of many modern governments.

 

MORAL SUCCESSOR

It was important to be seen to ritualize the condemnation as an antidote to incipient racist infection in their own societies. What anti-apartheid has effectively done is to become the moral successor to Hitlerism, itself done to death by all who have so brilliantly exploited its propaganda potential for their own moral elevation or enrichment.

To say that fascism and Nazism are boring in 1996 may overstate the case. The potential remains, but the novelty and excitement are gone... Race in
South Africa is pure gold.

To pursue the point a little further. If we ask the question "What is right?" (and "What is what wrong?") the answer invariably depends on what values appear to be in vogue. Small questions of right and wrong seem to leave us cold. Gone are the days when conscience (what's that?) troubled us about accepting too much change in a shop. Gone also is principled concern over marital infidelity or even public lasciviousness. Bill Clinton is not shamed by disclosures of his squalid conduct along the entire spectrum of human weaknesses. He is re-elected: by a land-slide… barely worth a full column inch.

The great questions of the past, as is suggested above, no longer appeal. Who could choose these days between a Jew, a Muslim and a Christian in the scale of religious rectitude? Does anyone go to hell any longer when he dies? Probably not. Right and wrong, good and evil have no longer have anything to do with God.

What about Adolf Hitler? Where does he spend eternity? And where does Verwoed spend it, murdered by a SACP operative? Who cares? … equivalents ...again, who cares?

Religion and ideology are, it seems, effectively dead. Yet there is life somewhere in our moral universe. There are crimes which arouse passion and the desire for revenge…


HISTORICALLY, at this time of the year, a great SA tragedy is enacted. This is when the Black matric results are announced, invariably reflecting devastatingly disappointing results. This year? Well, we saw SA's first "affirmative action" matric, with all races, Black, White and Asian, writing the same papers. A greater educational fiasco has never been seen, the most chaotic matric examination in history…

 

To top this abominable mess, we also had matric papers stolen, leaked or sold to pupils at prices ranging from a modest R 30 to R 2 000 a subject and, reportedly, R 35 000 for a full set. English, physics, algebra, geography, literature, Afrikaans, history, accounting all were in some way or other compromised.

Add to this a general lack of proper control and even postponement of examination dates, and you will readily understand the widespread dissatisfaction, misery, confusion and frustration among students and parents alike. It may well prove that, when the results are published, the overall "success" rate will be substantially better than previously: but only, I am assured by teachers, because papers have been heavily marked up.

As The Citizen… If ever a man deserved to burn in everlasting hell…iss was that man.

… "Uncle Joe," and no friend of Churchill…Hack it as you please…An entire book could be written on the single subject of …iss and the U…

 
FLUORIDATION MYTHS


ETHICS AND DR ZUMA

For thirty years the high-powered US-led international fluoride… succeed in ramming…Why would Zuma wish to feed us rat poison?

Here I am privy to an official letter…


SMIT: "There is no scientific evidence that water fluoridation causes cancer, AIDS, genetic hazards, Down's syndrome,
Alzheimer's disease, heart disease, immune system suppression, allergic reactions, etc. Drinking optimally fluoridated water is thus not harmful to human health"

FACT: Dr. Smit is merely being flippant…

 
MARCHING INTO BATTLE

WE now come to the persons most directly involved (and least consulted) in this immensely controversial campaign to fluoridate SA water supplies: YOU and your children….We are up against very big guns here, people capable of mounting master public relations campaigns, and with the Establishment media refusing to play its appointed watchdog role…


PUBLISHER'S LETTER

THIS is our last issue for 1996. Soon after putting it away I will be having the first of tTOo eye operations, so…” [sic]

 


Oops! One lesson we learnt long ago is that you should not write when your equilibrium is out of whack. Mine was certainly derailed when finalising the last pages of our 200th edition last month. Running to answer the phone in the dark, I tripped over an old copper urn. Not realising how deep the gash in my leg was, I didn't seek medical attention for 24 hours. By the time I did, it was to get the happy tidings that gangrene had already set in. Instead of following doctor's orders, I continued to write: with predictable results.

Two of my very dearest friends, Hilaire du Berier of
Monaco and Donald Darroch in Australia, had their names misspelt. Inexplicably, I credited the US historian, Professor Leo Raditsa as the author of The Other End of The Lifeboat. That, of course, was the work of another historian friend, Otto Scott, of California. Leo's book was the brilliant Prisoners of a Dream: The South African Heritage. Surprising, just how many people picked that up.

Congratulations on achieving our 200th issue are still coming in. Old friend Larry Abraham, publisher of Insider Report, phoned from
Santiago in Chile and hopes to be here in February. Christopher Story, of the heavyweight Soviet Analyst, phoned from London. US syndicated political columnist, Allan Brownfeld, whose column we have so often used, faxed us. He wrote: "Congratulations, Aida. Your newsletter remains a vital source of information not only to your SA subscribers, but to men and women throughout the world who follow events in your area and hope for a prosperous, free and tranquil future for a country which has so much promise and has suffered so much."

Thank you all. May God bless us and be with us all in the year to come.

 

Aida Parker had bigger fish to fry then to go after the South African Jewish community who were already held in check by their own or to put it bluntly by “capos” just as the Nazi SS used Jewish folk in the Concentration Camps to be their most effective wrecking ball when it came to screwing with the minds of the slave laborers before they were finally gassed out of their misery.

 

I anxiously wait a reply to my e-mail searching out Ms. Parker in the hope that she will come and visit our Ccrest Bed and Breakfast Café in Minehead where I will, God willing, have the opportunity to take her on an educational light journey as long as she doesn’t bring her pal Mr. Connie Mulder, a backer of the Citizen Newspaper, who I understand has returned to earth as a cancerous cell and is now firmly deposited deep inside Ms. Parker’s colon.

 

Like any infection that isn’t treated aggressively to begin with it only gets worse; never to forget that it was Ida Tarbell the American journalist who in the early 1900s was the catalyst in bringing down John D. Rockefeller and his rapacious team that stood behind Standard Oil located at 26th and Broadway in New York City.

 

“"Miss Tarbarrel” as Rockefeller described was born in 1857 100 hundred years before Bernie and Zena Gevisser’s youngest son, i.e. me. My last remaining real estate property is located in Santa Monica between Santa Monica Blvd and Broadway on Stanford Street which is one of the Ivy League named streets that begin right after 26th Street in Santa Monica and which end at Centenela Avenue.

 

One day someone might decide some of my stories are worthy of being made into a movie and finding someone to play Ronald “Capo di capi-baldhead” Perelman shouldn’t be difficult but if they want to earn an “emei” [sic] they will have to do better than the recent very poor showing of JW August the managing editor of the ABC Network affiliate in San Diego, never to forget my E-mail,

 

“…you have to work for your Pulitzer or your bosses could end up giving you more than an enema; different and apart from the joys of listening to Eminem. In other words you cannot afford to give into your whining…”

 

In August 2002 my Dad had heart surgery, a 5-bypass along with a pig-valve replacement. I have suggested that he consider being the lead plaintiff in a class action of ex-spouses who were at one time married to chain smokers and are now unable to find a suitable partner given their increased likelihood of at some point in their life having to carry around a respirator or at least make a case against my mother’s insurance carrier for all the second hand smoke he inhaled over 30 years of marriage to mention little of the “monkey on the back” specials I once advocated that the folks at the Prentice Hall division of Simon & Schuster, Bureau of Business Practice [BBP], implement for over taxed executives whose spouses promote the art of co-dependency.

 

My Dad, like the head honchos at Prentice Hall for some odd reason chooses to ignore my entreaties, well aware that internecine fighting is the bloodiest. My buddy Glen, the president of BBP at the time later paid me back with his brilliant account of “management obfuscation” which I used to impress the hell out of the doyens of the Hearst family while scaring Veronica Hearst to high-heaven.

 

It is possible that even 3 years after WWII ended my father was plagued by nightmares from flying high and low over Pontedera Italy none perhaps more so than operations 67 and 25 although I think operation 31 on February 22nd, 1945 say everything about my father, his ability to be brief and modest with a terrific grasp of acute angles despite being dyslexic.

 

Everyone has their own agenda to mention little of their strengths and weaknesses and that it is why it is all but impossible to get at the truth especially when those who fight the right fight like my father prefer to bury some of the most important lessons from the past in the hope that they will suffocate and die forgetting like Einstein Newton’s first principle, that for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction, i.e. nothing is lost particularly when we are dealing with things in a non-vacuum environment and nothing comes more to mind than our brains, whose mass remains relatively pretty much the same assuming a normal birth, but whose energy is ignited by light forces that shouldn’t be interfered with by over controlling adults whose brain cells are either dead or in need of a major overhaul.

 

Keeping one’s thoughts in alignment is no different to sitting straight and walking straight and of course those of us who rely on our tires when moving rapidly through the twists and forks in the road know only too well how just the slightest misalignment can wreck havoc with the steering.

 

In the end it is all reflected in the tread marks we leave behind and now with the Digital Age nothing should be lost and to hell with those who would prefer that we all forget.

 

The sooner everyone gets with the program that change is inevitable the better; that God is all about love and goodness, that the truth will eventually emerge that God is not blind that he sees everything and has the means to unload all the kuk we have accumulated and spilled out as we travel on a path to impress others while milking the meek believing that it will empower us when our time comes to meet our maker, 

 

Making the most of something is human nature, part of our genetic makeup, the so-called evolutionary process, survival of the fittest. Gaining advantage, leveraging one’s position over others has been with the human race going back as far as Adam although when listening to the maids respond to my mother “madam” and my mother referring to my step-father as “The Boss” it is no wonder that when the maids would eventually see me they would smile, a mirror image of me and my Dad.

 

Most would agree that I look very similar to my mother but also without her good looks but that I have my Dad’s smile who gets the most upset with me when I talk about the “English transplants” who live the life of Riley in a town called Wivesliscombe in the southwest of England just an hour or so as the crow flies inland from Minehead although lately he hasn’t commented on my curly hair getting out of control and for good reason.

 

My dad knows I love my “senile” English folks it just that I prefer to live apart like most well adjusted kids wanting to get the hell away from their parents at the first opportunity, i.e. as my eldest brother would say, a cockroach casts a giant shadow on the plate.

 

And of course should anyone wish to make a contribution in my name to the local Anglican church in Wivesliscombe that borders my eldest brother’s property they would undoubtedly make the Gevissers and the Zulman transplants more welcomed in the community especially around Xmess time.

 

Instead of just grabbing things off trees using our hands or as my grandfather in the early 1900s picked up unbroken bottles off the streets of Durban, South Africa placing them ever so carefully into his wheelbarrow today Wall Street has perfected the instrument commonly known as “leverage buyouts.”

 

Long before Wall Street came along, however, goods and services were being bought and sold on the basis of “added value” which is similar to “leverage buyouts” but world’s apart when one considers who the beneficiaries are of most “leverage buyouts” and who ultimately pays by getting kicked in the shorts.

 

I just can’t wait to respond to Ms. Ada [sic] Parker with what she thinks of The Meek WITH TEETH Shall Inherit The Earth and have her turnover each night wondering why I had taken so long to give her “a smack” for coming on to my father when she knew he was a happily married man.

 

If the kids of today only knew how the folks from the 40s and 50s rocked particularly those who had it all to nothing living in the last of the Colonial outposts they would have nightmares and be ever so envious especially when they are faced with having to wear condoms but at least they finally know that those who spread the biggest amount of trash for some 2,000 years weren’t the English, the Americans or even the French but rather the Roman Catholic Church whose master paintings that adorn the Vatican were made off the backs of the peasants who were indoctrinated into believing that it was God’s will that they don’t do morally offensive stuff such as masturbation but to procreate, filling up the coffers of the church elite who then played fiddled with their little boys while their soldiers laid waste to God’s garden of Eden, counting on the likes of King “Altar Boy” Golden to remain “shtum” i.e. deafeningly quiet.

 

In the days of old before there was such a thing as the stock market business people did business based on personal relationships where trust was built one day at a time and with trust came respect that then led to “love” a word perhaps more prone to misuse in the English language than any other word besides for “fuck.”

 

Languages such as Spanish have several words for “love” but for not altogether clear reasons, us English as well as the Spanish and everyone else falling under the species labeled “Human beings” we tend to all fixate on our butts but of course we are not really one species but like the birds and the bees we are but mostly dust particles mixed ever so carefully with water which is we know is made up of two types of gasses.

 

Sex is what the masses could ultimately look forward professed by clergy who themselves didn’t know the first thing about the human condition God forbid anyone were to  question their chastity. Talk about which group of people are the most pornographic and one would be hard pressed to consider someone like Larry Flynt of Hustler Magazine anything less than a breath of fresh air especially since unlike his competitor Penthouse he has the good sense not to have an idiot like Dershowitz shoveling his shit on to the masses who are getting smarter with each tick of the clock.

 

Sex, followed by drugs followed by rock and roll is constantly on the minds of most people in some form or another and all one needs to do is to look at the substance of the commercials on TV to appreciate how well those that produce the ads have made a science of understanding human nature using the media which is nothing short of the most perverted substance abuse.

 

Only recently have I come to realize why Sushi chefs often tend to serve oranges so neatly peeled especially when one is in the company of a very sexy woman.

 

Finding the right buttons to push in order to motivate others to be the best they can be making up for all my inadequacies, has been a preoccupation of mine from the word go. I was never the fastest on my feet and I saw little benefit in being the first in class to blurt out the answers for all it did was build resentment, but if one can learn to mix in well with others as one is forced to when playing rugby in the scrum one gets to see ever so closely from so many different angles all the players strengths and weaknesses and then to go about building the right team is simple “steven.”

 

Whenever I was naughty my mother would bring out her “weapon of mass destruction” although never once did my mother even come close to calling me simple but she did used to like my dimples before of course my crows’ feet set in to mention little about my ears that I hope to one day use to flap the flies and mosquitoes that attack my back and of course I have a trunk that our ten-year old has yet to dare to grab hold of, his mother though is quite the “fast draw.”.

 

Why my mother chose to use my second name “Steven” only seemed to embolden me more “to buck” the system but mostly though I only did it in her presence when we were alone and she would let me question her to kingdom come although we rarely if ever spoke about religion. Her first order of business was to have me sit next to her in business meetings and for me to do as I pleased as long as I kept my mouth shut.

 

As I got older though she began to frown more and more and today she like many caught up in “the web” now seem to have a permanent frown never ever to forget Dr. JBS my “travel companion’s” ex who remains on the loose, fast approaching moving to the head of the line as I see time running out for all of us and of course should he and/or his attorney Mr. George G. Hurst be dialed in to this communication, I say once again, “Take a very deep breath and try not to be stupid. More than God is watching your every move.”

 

Better to let people think you to be a fool then to speak out and remove all doubt was something I seemed to have mastered long before I first heard this expression at the University of Natal, South Africa that mainly catered to brain dead whites whose parents had failed to fight the right fight.

 

Most of my friends growing up were Jewish and as much as they suffered from the farts of their parents who had decided to bury their heads up their own asses they were light years ahead in terms of intelligence than our non-Jewish competitors although every so often one found a non-Jewish person rising head and shoulders above the Jews and these exceptional “goyim” were quickly grabbed hold of by the Jewish community, either to help run their family businesses or simply to marry one of their children and produce fair haired offspring with blue eyes.

 

As teenagers those of us with time on our hands played the game of cards known as Klabbios which may have come out of Holland but it was not something the Afrikaner community embraced for these folks were even more brain dead than the average non-Jewish person who simply was doomed from the start especially those who attended Catholic schools.

 

I was no better than an average card player for I spent half the time figuring out what made my opponent tick and when it came to “doubles” where one is teamed with another player, I would become even more distracting trying to work out the signaling going on between our opponents. Consequently, only a small fraction of the time was spent counting the tricks.

 

The most honest thing I saw growing up in South Africa was prostitution and although I have never once visited with a prostitute let alone walk into a brothel I happen to believe it is perhaps the most honest of all professions given the fact that for the most part one knows exactly what one is getting and the prostitute knows what she is likely to expect.

 

This particular trade requires the most critical of due diligence for one mistake can cost you your life to mention little of your future prospects and before you know it one could lose an entire tribe.

 

Instead of looking for the lost tribe of Israel it is time we all got our acts together and started a new tribe based on always telling the truth, never tolerating even the smallest of white lies and never having to worry about people who lie because lying is one of the few diseases that most would agree is not part of our DNA and if I am wrong who the hell cares I will be long gone and they will have a hard time pissing on my grave since I don’t plan on being buried.

 

Dishonesty was everywhere growing up in South Africa and naturally it made its way into our school system and eventually one of my closest buddies decided that paying others to steal exam papers was not only profitable but it would give him a shoe up when it came time join one of the 3 remaining Big 8 Accounting firms.

 

One of the most interesting things to observe at my Jewish day school when arriving in the morning and leaving in the afternoon was the interaction of guys and the Catholic girls who attended the convent right above although it was mostly the complete lack of interaction between the two groups that first got me thinking this world is utterly nuts.

 

The Jewish kids judged the nuns running around in the funniest of black and white garments with crosses that seemed more like daggers indicative of the devil incarnate although we were taught that there is no such thing as the devil forgetting the fact that we and our Jewish teachers including the principal would start out each morning wearing these objects placed on our foreheads and arms that looked like we attempting to communicate with extraterrestrials as far away as Mars.

 

Despite our horrific warped impressions of one another's religious beliefs those of us who attended Jewish day schools had no idea, however, of what was going on in the Catholic cathedrals where the priests mumbled away in Latin putting what we thought were simply the masses to sleep.

 

We were baffled that a group of people, the vast majority of the world had somehow embraced someone coming from the masses not part of the rabbinical elite who was supposed to have walked on water.

 

Jewish people are taught from a very early age to question even why there would be foreshortening of their penises to mention little of one literal English translation of “Israel” which suggests “struggle with God” when us Jewish people are already pretty short to begin with but we accept this “short cut” while allowing the rabbinical elitists to “comment” ad-infinitum.

 

On the one hand Jewish people can be so precise especially when it comes to joke telling and of course it is no wonder that Jewish people have cornered the “funny market” but on the “other hand” many seem to feel they need a helping hand in understanding the essence of Judaism which has the Jewish elders most of whom clearly are so busy that they have little time for sex engaging in everlasting commentary.

 

Jewish people are united throughout the world with the saying that they all believe fully expresses the essence of Judaism, “Do unto thy neighbor as you would want done unto yourself, and the rest is commentary” despite the fact that if one gets 10 Jewish people crowded into a box without feeling squeezed, cattle coaches to boot, they will in all probability erupt in to at least 11 arguments.

 

Jewish people love to eat yet the more religious they are the less the food tastes given all the salting that begins when the animal is slaughtered all the way through to when salad is served that by the time “desert” [sic] comes along everything pretty much tastes the same, sand to boot.

 

I once visited a synagogue in Philadelphia where a carpet was symbolic of the "Moronic Jews" [sic] of Spain who placed sand down on the ground to muffle their forbidden prayers and nothing quite like a bunch of shuffling black and white birds going off the edge.

 

Being accepted in a high society religious congregation is in many ways like getting in to a country club today, where one simply has to pay dues and not question the organization like the Jewish Federation, God forbid there was a requirement that their presidents and executives produce personal financial statements that show them to be both honest and competent to dish out charities in an equitable fashion.

 

Few Jewish people know much about foreshortening which is a term of art I don’t have the foggiest idea of how to spell but today I know just enough to knock the socks off most collectors of art who don’t know the first thing about good art just like few people really know much about good tasting food especially those who salt their French fries to death which is something I just love to do and of course the days of the French playing roughshod with world politics is close drawing to an end, Perfect Storm III perfectly designed and engineered to drive a nail right through the hearts of the folks that run Vivendi one of the last remaining vestiges of French Roman Catholic aristocracy to Timbuktu, now mixed in with Jewish blood courtesy of the Bronfman family of Seagram fame.

 

And I won’t get started on what one gram of alcohol can do when mixed in with the ever pure blood of American Indians, no different to perhaps 100 lbs of cocaine leaves which I believe results in 1 lb of cocaine although it could be a one gram of coke.

 

I must remember to discuss this matter with another uncle of mine, David Gevisser, whose main benefactor, Charles Engelhard died of an addition to coca cola or so we were told.

 

David Gevisser has a son, Mark Gevisser, a gay journalist living in South Africa fortunate enough to have found himself a South African bred Indian gentleman. David has to be one of the luckiest, unluckiest people I knew growing up besides for the fact that he couldn’t speak.

 

How it came to pass that my “dear uncle” could amass a fortune, marry one of the best looking woman in South Africa who was not a model of my mothers has baffled me from the first time I laid hands on him to mention little of how frustrating it is to have a conversation with someone who can take as long as 10 minutes to blurt out one sentence.

 

However, according to my mother who not all that no long ago had dinner with “talkative David” who seems to come alive after a schnapps or two, “uncle David” thought me to be a little naïve. David Gevisser though has never though really known that much about me or for that matter my father who was and remains head and shoulders better looking, taller and a whole lot smarter than this poor character of a man who played second fiddle to his crooked uncle Sol Moshal, the Managing Director of the Moshal Gevisser Group of Companies who “audirtors” [sic] and advisors, “turned a blind eye.”

 

Again, I simply cannot wait to get it on with my cousin Mark Gevisser who will undoubtedly become his father’s mouthpiece but I doubt either of these Gevissers just like Professor “BrownNose” Brown will think it smart to rally up the South African Indian community given the fact that their loyalties still remain with the Gevissers from Durban particularly those who tried to stand up to the man that sold so many families down the tubes particularly the disenfranchised who depended on the Moshal Gevisser Group of Companies 4 giving them credit in defiance of the Apartheid regime.

 

It takes just one person taking one step after the other to do the right thing and while the Jewish people couldn’t get over the this walking on water business they didn’t seem to have a whole lot of difficulty working out the mathematics of what it meant for Moses to part the Red Sea.

 

It is though an understanding of the Red Shift that may unite each and every one of us in a belief of one incredible mighty force, a power much stronger than the sum of us or anything contained in book whether it be the Bible or simply one of my favorites, The Power of One.

 

First though we have to address all the untruths, all the nonsense stuff that has been buried since time in memorial that is at the heart of what is wrong with this world which has now got to the point of the world being topsy turvy and what were once beautiful curves all butt forgotten.

 

Only once we start along a path of transparency that requires each one of us tu learn about the beauty of art and its incredible complexities will we begin to appreciate our own bodies and the magnificence of this unimaginative construction that could last 4ever if we did things in moderation, most of all we would come to realize that to strike another human being is to strike out at God, that God has his blueprint clearly demarcated on all our extremities but with age often wisdom gets left behind particularly those who have allowed themselves to become other peoples’ doormats, the mind the first organ to suffer irreparable damage.

 

There is a need to build back trust and respect which combined and carefully measured = love but it requires that each of us tu call a spade a spade and the more we unearth, the more plants we grow, the less sugar we consume the more we will cleanse both our souls and mother earth which is God’s gift to mankind, soul searching made easier when we are in tune with our maker, a heartbeat away.

 

While young Jewish boys and girls did stuff like spinning the bottle some of us had perfected the art of calculating the odds of kissing the best looking woman in the group the result of acquiring terrific skills in spinning a spindle, Catholic boys the while being fiddled to high-heaven.

 

In my opinion, as outrageous the conduct of Jewish people like Ronald “The Finagle King” Perelman and folks like George Soros who has this “Jekyll and Hyde” [sic] persona, their overall negative impact on society is pale compared to what the Romans continue to do to this very day.

 

The Roman Catholic Church is nothing more than the remnants of the Roman Empire that decided to embrace certain elements of Christianity in order to hold on to reigns of power as the world started to shift towards a more spiritual purpose much like companies like Vivendi are simply the offspring of those who were not decapitated during the French Revolution that had the new leaders baring different names but the same soiled souls.

 

In due course I plan to launch Nsoros.org to go head-to-head with George Soros’ soros.org. One should first start cleaning up the disorganization in one’s own backyard, those close to home, to mention little of the mess that occurs when those in positions of trust i.e. doctors play with then minds of little kids, unkept houses to boot.

 

The incidence, however, of sexual child abuse amongst Jewish children is in my opinion statistically insignificant when compared to Roman Catholic communities even though I have yet to see a comprehensive worldwide study.

 

Only when I was already into my mid-twenties did I get to hear first hand about what had been occurring when choir boys were disrobing and how the dirty minds of the priests sprung into action with each tug of those fukukta garments while impressing upon the women crouching low to keep producing offspring no doubt the more boys the merrier and of course they would sprout nonsense about faith being everything no doubt different to anything professed by the almighty, action speaks at least as loud as words, “sticks and stones though break bones, but it is words that do the most damage.”

 

I had always assumed that non-Jewish people had a higher incidence of alcoholism than Jewish people because of communion but once I got the full drift of what people like King Golden Jnr, my former attorney and close business colleague had to tell me I soon began to add things differently reexamining everything about my past particularly all the nonsensical notions I accepted as gospel although to this very day I have yet to read the Christian gospel.

 

I still have some difficulty reading math but have managed to get through one page of the New Testament and perhaps one of these days I will get to Mathew and understand more about what inspired him.

 

Christians are lumped into one group just like some may assume I am using broad brush strokes in using King Golden Jnr as a representative sample of Roman Catholics. Nothing could be further from the truth for some of the greatest people ever to have lived have embraced Catholicism to mention little of Italians who saved many Jews over the past 2,000 years whose fundamental belief system is no different to anyone who believes in hard work and always telling the truth.

 

One of the most common disparaging things Jewish people have to say besides for the water thing is this thing about Jesus Christ being the son of God forgetting once again that you put 10 Jewish widows in a room whose husbands have all had their balls chopped off in one form or another believing that circumcision was their “green light” to go at it at will, and if their children aren’t looking they would grab hold of even King Golden’s penis which he refers to as “Jesus” and say whatever they think he needs to hear and be willing to do it anywhere as long as Mr. Golden has the bucks to put them up at places like the Peninsula Hotel in Beverly Hills.

 

Jewish people have this thing about water and no where is it more evident than in Israel where water is more important than religion and of course most Israelis are totally irreligious, they simply understand numbers, that the sum of the parts is more than the individual components and no where is this more apparent then when Jewish boys and girls are on the battlefield.

 

Although Jewish girls are generally not involved in front line defense or attack positions every male Israeli soldier knows that he will have hell to pay should an Israeli girl soldier get a bullet between the shoulder blades to mention little of having a healthy woman alongside in the event one needs help pushing a truck on say a crowded freeway who can be counted on to protect you with their genitals tucked inside, perhaps further proof that God favors women.

 

I too prefer to be around women than I do smelly men whose testosterone is generally out of control although clearly today it is often difficult to tell men apart from women to mention little of the Hyde Report which I have yet to read but which I assume will not be as successful as Manager Minute One which calls for each one of us to be our own managers from Minute One, to empower the kids to parent the parents who need the most help but with it comes the responsibility to be smart and not cave in to the weaknesses and co-dependency of their parents who as they get older have nothing better to do than to talk about their ailments.

 

In my quest to understand what makes people tick and which groups are most likely to succeed the thing I would always insist on was for anyone who came to me with a problem to have at least thought about a possible solution. Even the dumbest and most pathological liars can find at least two negatives deep within their souls to produce a positive. Failing to produce at least one alternative resulted in instant dismissal.

 

Only once did I ever fire anyone on the spot for trying to place their monkey on my back for the message soon spread very quickly throughout the organization. When someone begins a conversation along the following lines, “To tell you the truth…I haven’t been that well lately had a little hiccup…” and you don’t happen to be their doctor they are doing one or more of the following:

 

1.       Not understanding their audience, i.e. wasting both their own time as well as that of the person they are whining to.

2.       Understand perfectly well that the person they unloading their shit is incapable of solving their problem and simply want to screw with their head to mention little of their time.

3.       Are so fucked up, i.e. their brain waves have so short-circuited that their neurons have simply gone into a tailspin and they should like any crippled horse be shot on the spot.

 

 

How it came to pass that Dr. Hendrik Verwoed the architect of Apartheid was able to sow the seeds of Nazism so deeply into the psyche of the white South African electorate so soon after the defeat of Hitler was something else I pondered from an early age.

 

The fact that in the end he was I believe eventually assassinated by a Greek expatriate who was said to be “mad” without there being celebrations everywhere particularly in our Jewish day schools and synagogues seemed quite remarkable at the time and perhaps why the first real love of my life was a girl of Greek descent, decent though wouldn’t begin to describe Anne George.

 

Verwoed was also a transplant much like my mother, an interloper although like me my mother can barely speak a word of Afrikaans. Old Hendrik came to South Africa from Holland, much like Hitler who came from Austria to Germany had dark hair, dark eyes and whose very dark vision of the world was nonetheless able to hoodwink more than a handful of folks especially those who had become accustomed to the good life although my one uncle, Dr. Leizer Molk who married my father’s only sister, Daphne, concluded well before Verwoed became Prime Minister of South Africa having Nazis in power was more than his stomach could handle and left South Africa like a bat out of hell to Lusaka to spread free market competition an alternative to witch craft which I assume my cousin Mark Gevisser will explore in great detail in analyzing the mind of Thabo Mbeki the current prime minister of South Africa who took his time in drawing the connection between HIV and aids.

 

My father though, unlike his great brother-in-law, Dr. Leizer Molk, would have been everything Hitler dreamed of, a great sportsman, on and off the field, and unlike Dr. Molk and Hitler my Dad had blue eyes, although he like Leizer and Hitler did have pitch black hair and a brain no one has yet been able to boot and my mother not only had a great figure and an incredible mind for numbers but she would also be my father’s staunchest supporter during the 30 years of their marriage although it was Daphne Gevisser Molk who had the balls to tell it exactly right to the man who sold her father, my grandfather, Israel “Issy” Gevisser and my Dad, down the drain when this rather despicable man, Sol Moshal, once visited with the Molks in Lusaka, Northern Rhodesia, now known as Zambia; and of course God knows better than to simply have Sol Moshal rot in his casket.

 

Where in the 10 Commandments does it say anything about being buried in an elaborate casket although there is no mention sum might argue of the church getting a “kick back” from the funeral directors who charge the families an “arm and a leg” for the privilege of attracting the termites.

 

I only recently heard how Daphne who has since passed away told off the man who would later engineer the first “crooked” leverage buyout of a public company in South Africa although there are many like me who know perfectly well there is little if any good that comes from the business of leverage buyouts which usually results with the shareholders left sucking on to the hind tit to mention little of the employees.

 

By the way, my dog Pypeetoe, is the one with the Pythagoras universal sign on his neck sucking off the furthest nipple away from his mother’s rear end.

 

I thank God for all His blessings including forcing my Dad and my siblings to have to work for a living, never having to worry about anyone approaching the executors of NextraTerrestrial.com looking for my “ill-gotten” gains.

 

In due course my mother will be making a contribution to the South African Truth Commission WITH TEETH of perhaps the last remaining property in her “bloc-buster.com” hands that has a bird’s eye view of Robin Island.

 

Those monies could first come into the coffers of NextraTerrestrial.com before being dished out fairly and squarely with NextraTerrestrial.com taking no more than a 1 percent fee “handling fee.”

 

Bloc-buster.com will in due course be stringing up strategic alliances with organizations and individuals around the world who to some extent or another may have been co-opted by evil doers in shooting their poison tipped arrows and now want to do the right thing and ante up a buck or tTOo.

 

I do have a rather large nose although my “travel companion” refers to it these days as “long, like your dog.” Any comparison to my dog I take as a compliment.

 

When Daphne told off Sol Moshal who we referred to as “The little King” for favoring his closest relative, David Gevisser, over the other Gevisser offspring and his response, “You have more spunk than all the Gevissers combined” that should have been a rallying cry for all the Gevissers to get on board and tug together and of course it should come as no surprise to anyone that we have our share of gays although when one does a search on Then Internet it looks like not only does Mark Gevisser talk for all of us, the big mouth that he is, but many are left with the impression that we are all gay.

 

Now of course we like to party a lot and at last count 40% of us are confirmed to be gay which seems these days in line with the rest of the morphing going on around the world, one way to keep the population down.

 

Sol Moshal was tasked with running the combined holdings of the Moshals and the Gevissers known as the Moshal Gevisser Group of Companies which traded everything from coffee and tea to every type of soft good imaginable never to forget Jute which I have no doubt was stuffed with South Africa’s richest crop commonly known as “dagga.”

 

A “bad” or “mild” crop back in the 1960s and 1970s was probably equivalent to the most potent marijuana plant produced by King Golden Jnr. in his back yard in Del Mar, California or Dr. JBS when he lived in a poorer suburb of San Diego.

 

I learned a lot from all the business talk that went on during our dinner conversations growing up and the need to never kowtow to bullies let alone allow a left of left leftist to ever again grab hold of the reigns of power especially one who has had an Ivy League education who along with a harmonious voice is capable of using the English language, ripped out of the Roman Latin, to wreck havoc on the masses, the young to boot and why in God’s name when their leader Bill “Can’t keep his pants on” Clinton came to power why folks like King Golden and his right of right wing ally and bar-fly swatting buddy, Roger Hedgecock never stepped up to the plate and declared loud and clear immediately after Albert “Boring Bore” and his “phat” [sic] wife who did they circular dance on the "blemah" [sic] at the Democratic headquarters after their winning performance,

 

“Hilary and mine’s first order of business the instant we clean out what remains of old man George Bush Senior’s belongings assuming we cannot sell it for more than a nickel, we will begin proceedings to investigate corruption within the Roman Catholic Church in dioceses starting out at the most south western tip of the United States of America, commonly known as San Diego.

 

We will be calling witnesses such as King Golden Jnr., his wife who has a PhD in early child education and now a Head Start big wig although I have yet to sniff out Mrs. Golden but I think we can take Mr. King Golden’s word on it that he wife achieved her post graduate degree without lying stealing or cheating unlike what we all know went on at that fukukta Law School in Virgin territory a breeding ground for disaffected Roman Catholic Choir boys…Oops, Monica leave that alone right now…Of course I can understand the appeal you Jew girls have for us goys” [sic].

 

And of course we heard nothing from Billy “Bob Horny” Clinton or his Hollywood gang bangers on these matters or how the Roman Catholic Church’s fixation on sex, breeding fear in young impressionable minds to mention little of the guilt that then leads to sex offenders now showing up everywhere, possibly even in our own well-to-do neighborhoods.

 

Never to forget my letting Sol Moshal know just a few years before he died why he would never rest peacefully that whenever I visited Durban, South Africa I would make a point of pissing on his grave.

 

I did not know at the time that in Iceland pissing on someone’s grave was apparently a sign of respect but for the same token I hadn’t yet worked out why the ants are taking over the world.

 

I am as certain that Bernie and Zena Gevisser are my parents that Sol Moshal keeps being returned to earth as one of those ants that one sees stretched to the limit building a bridge for other ants to cross over as they pee and crap over both segments of his body.

 

I left South Africa just before I was 21 and don’t recall once ever meeting Sol Moshal who was regarded as one of the leaders of the Jewish community, the others fearful of the “anti-Semitic” backlash never let the true story be told just like they never banded together when another crook by the name of Eldred Savell who stole millions from Jews and non-Jews alike found refuge in Israel to mention little of the Lazarus, “capo family” from Durban, South Africa who openly backed the Nazi Nationalist Government, a family that had for the most part escaped the horrors of Germany.

 

There is a story I recently heard of a South African boxer who attended the 1936 Olympic Games in Germany and lost to a Black American. Hitler though was so impressed with this young Afrikaner that he made him an offer he couldn’t refuse to resettle in Germany.

 

Later when war broke out this boxer ventured via submarine to South Africa to ferment unrest but was captured and possibly killed. I don’t recall this particular segment of history being in the history books that I was taught when growing up in South Africa nor do I recall there ever being one protest at either our Jewish day school or our synagogue which were both frequently visited by the heads of the Lazarus clan and of course we know what the Catholic priests were doing with the choir just like what they did with altar boys in San Diego.

 

Leizer Molk put his formal medical education first to work when accompanying mules to India during the 2nd World War. Both Leizer and Daphne Molk left South Africa immediately after getting married as Dr. Molk who grew up in a very right wing Afrikaner town by the name of “Hellburg” [sic] in the Orange Free State, a province of South Africa could see the writing on the wall as opposed to the vast majority of other Jewish people who simply developed a “larger mentality” much like what one found in the ghettos of eastern Europe although as opposed to eastern European Jewry who suffered horribly at the hands of the gentile leadership, the Jewish people in South Africa prospered like no other Jewish community in the world outside of La Jolla, California where there are a considerable number of  transplants from South Africa who struggle to make a living despite having brought over a good chunk of their ill-gotten gains.

 

If they are not in real estate investing ill-gotten gains then they are trying to flog someone else’s property and when they get truly desperate they open a coffee shop and hope I don’t calling wanting them to make a charitable contribution to the Blacks of Southern Africa.

 

South Africans in general have a pretty good reputation as hard workers who take care of their own, community conscious blah blah but I have yet to see the financial records of any of them that would demonstrate beyond a shadow of a doubt that their success is all due to hard work.

 

I look forward to being proven wrong on this as my hope is that without exception all of them will be very forthcoming with producing financial statements of their businesses as we start collecting from those who have been the most rapacious until such time as we have the world economy back in balance.

 

South Africa was a breeding ground for many start-up clothing companies including Gotcha but for some reason few if any South Africans in the clothing business can hold a candle up to their American competitors and of course the executor of my estate is going to be suggesting that I beef up my security detail.

 

I happen to also pay a lot of attention to the detail all compliments of the one job I held during a university vacation where my cousin, Nigel Gevisser was the auditor in charge of SACI aka South African Clothing Industries which my step-father Alan Zulman was a co-founder with Abe Dubin who was in charge of making the Switzerland deposits.

 

Now these are the sorts of things we were raised as kids not to speak about but the problem is that with each generation looking at their elders who play it fast and loose it shouldn’t come as a surprise that the entire would is now completely topsy turvy.

 

It really doesn’t take a rocket scientist to sew two pieces of fabric together but it takes a financial genius to be able to mark it as well as the labor up some 50% although the real profit is made mostly on the fabric which as a result of over and under invoicing has the bulk remaining offshore where it is never taxed by any government bureaucracy.

 

And of course as Jewish people we can justify not trusting the government to dispense appropriately with a system of justice that has for some 2.000 years wrecked havoc on Jewry around the world.

 

And so once everyone can justify why they cannot trust anyone and that each one of us has to cut corners then it is just a matter of time before the cloth doesn’t fit and we all start to look rather funny much like men who when they grow older have their torso shrinking so much so that they begin to look like Charlie Chaplin with their belt now tucked under their heart while their legs remain at the same length stickier and crankier as they get older, to mention little of their smelly organs. 

 

As folks read this I have a sneaky suspicion that their farts are rather smelly especially those who have been pigs at the trough. My Dad and his brother in law Leizer Molk are without doubt the only two exceptions I know besides for Sebastian Capella who doesn’t look a day older than me, and then there is my friend Gene Rene who feeds me when I look like I need a meal.

 

I never read Dale Carnegie’s book, How to win friends and influence people but I have made it a habit of studying people ever so closely starting with my own family, friends, and business acquaintances and decided in the end it is far more satisfying being in business alone and not having to worry about someone trying to stab you in the back which is mostly what I hear when on occasion I visit with folks from the “old country.”

 

There is only one thing worse than boring old folks it is those who constantly fart. Dr. Leizer Molk, besides for getting out of South Africa before all the rot was able to penetrate his mind is perhaps the best joke teller in our family which doesn’t really mean very much when you consider how pathetic the Gevissers and Ashes are at telling jokes rarely if ever able to keep a straight face, perhaps the worst poker players on the planet although when we put our minds to it and folks don’t cheat we play a pretty game of klabbios.

 

There is one joke Leizer tells about a talking frog that for life of me I cannot remember but the punch line fits in with what I think of a Cinderella book my mother and my step-father recently published called, The Winking Cat, and why I just hope my dog doesn’t start talking in English although I think he has French mastered. Certainly Pypeetoe responds better to my French-Canadian girlfriend then he does to me.

 

Few if any people in their right minds would have paid a dime for this particular piece of trash although I did use the pages recently to start a fire in our rock cabin and fortunately I didn’t need to open the vent of the chimney for whenever I would day dream I would see this story appearing on the ceiling and I would feel compelled to pull it all together which would interfere with my unified theory of the universe that I can see in mathematical terms but have yet to fully explain on paper.

 

Now I am talking about The Winking Cat book which is  made up of fact and fiction that leaves one cold especially when one of the things the “English transplants” advocate is getting rid of pets as the stroking of an animal is supposed to effect “your sex life” and then my mother and step-father go, once every one of the books have been sold although they were mostly just given away as book ends, much like the One Minute Manager, and invest the proceeds in some pooch that very recently had my step father returning prematurely from an overseas trip while my mother searched out for a younger mate, just kidding.

 

Now there is no reason to suspect that either Zena Gevisser Zulman or Alan Zulman would find a better match but for the life of me I cannot understand how they could possibly have come up with a name like “Charlie” for their dog.

 

For years now I have carried with me a MasterCard credit card with my mother’s name on it and the back is signed, “Charlie Chaplin.” The card had the same number as a credit card which was in my own name but every so often I used the “Zena R. Zulman” MasterCard to see how carefully folks check things out.

 

One time I was with my “travel companion” in Peru and the restaurant folks took my passport which has my real name on it, compared it to the back of the card with the “Charlie Chaplin” name which was clearly different to the name “Zena R. Zulman” on the front and found everything 100% kosher.

 

My mother though didn’t find any of this funny and she let me know how she felt when she called me back in December 2001 while I was visiting Minehead, England where I had just bought a property with only this “Zena R. Zulman” MasterCard in my possession.

 

Because I had planned on going on a long hike and didn’t want to deal with carrying any excess baggage including my passport I just held on to this one credit card as I had lost the one in my name.

 

So as to prevent my mother from having another stroke I simply dropped the “Charlie Chaplin” MasterCard in the mailbox. Neither my mother nor my step father ever let me know whether they received my credit card “gift” nor for that matter did I notice any charges on my statement that seemed unfamiliar although I rarely check my statements. Today even the credit card companies know not to mess with me.

 

The “Charlie Chaplan” MasterCard had to have stunk like hell considering the fact that I had kept it in my back pocket while traversing the slopes of the “mountain range” in and around my property in the southwest countryside of England which despite the all the diseases that now afflict the British in addition to them being considered by many, mostly of course the French as a bunch of “drunks”, still has more sheep and cows roaming around than anything I had ever witnessed while growing up in Africa, which reminds me once again of something my uncle Leizer told me about when he first went to a game reserve in Northern Rhodesia some hundred odd years ago when there was as much as “hundred herd of elephants.”

 

For sum reason my uncle doesn’t seem to remember my eldest brother once setting light to the curtains of home in Lusaka which was later taken over the Chinese. Leizer Molk constantly manages to move from one location to the next and despite being perhaps the greatest medical diagnostician around even as he approaches 100 he is probably only worth ten or so zillion give or take 8 million depending on how one looks at what it means to have infinite wisdom to mention little of my purposefully leaving out the currency.

 

Fortunately or unfortunately, Leizer has two sons who happen to be physicians with specialties in everything from knowing how to stop a hundred ton houseboat with one hand to a specialty in cardiology that would have most of the other cardiologists I know left stone cold based on the number of procedures Barry Molk has performed in the 100 odd years he has been perfecting his craft, not to be confused with art.

 

I still have to figure out what Dr-Associate Professor Barry Molk does for a living although like his father he is constantly on the road and for all I know he could have a fleet of mobile cardiology units crisscrossing the planet giving on the spot angiograms and “angioplastics” [sic] to boot and I am certain he would find our yellow plastic armchairs which have to be as comfortable as his father once did.

 

Although you may have some difficulty keeping track of this sun and that sun for us Jewish people it is made even more difficult since everyone has a Hebrew name that has a first name and ends with “son of” and perhaps why Jewish people have so much difficulty with Jesus Christ being the son of God because of the all the confusion it would have in the market places which the Jewish people seem to have a knack for cornering.

 

Whenever a Jewish person makes it in a sport say soccer or rugby it is celebration time for it means that our inbreeding has not reached the point of no return. And when one of us has the smarts to give up practicing medicine albeit with two specialties like my “cousin” David Moshal the son of Michael Moshal it is proof positive that those incredible genes should not be lost on another hairy Jewish woman.

 

Michael Moshal was the smartest man I ever knew born in South Africa and it was not so much the fact that he saved my life but I assume knew that I would keep his letter to one day proudly display on my website.

 

Within 8 months of Professor Moshal sending me that letter congratulating my going “toe to toe” scrumming with a bunch of “women rugby players” albeit the “world champions” he was dead at the ripe old age of 45.

 

Michael’s father, Barney Moshal was my father’s doctor and would later turn a blind eye that would allow my father to become a fighter-bomber-pilot at age 19.  As a kid my father suffered from asthma and on his very first dive bombing raid the asthma left the cockpit and my father never looked back.

 

People who drive with their eyes constantly looking in the rear view mirror eventually become short-sighted and why perhaps why for nearly a decade I did very little driving and of course I was capable of driving anyone that lived with me nuts somehow though managing to attract the most brilliant and beautiful women in the world to support me who have been at least equal in beauty with all the women that according to my father my cousin Barry Molk supports around the world, the world being endless.

 

I have noticed that my father with age has begun to exaggerate but given all his other incredible attributes I turned a blind eye to this even though I consider someone who exaggerates no different to someone who tells outright lies. When one allows even white lies to be told one is creating an environment to breed another politician and we have enough already.

 

It is a good thing that some of my cousins are very bright but why they have to be also good looking is something I plan to take up with God when we next meet. Nothing, however, gives me better protection than for everyone on this planet to think my uncle Leizer and his sons and my cousins by “social intercourse” are wealthier than me and the older I can make them out to be the better.

 

Although I continue to be dependant financially on the likes of my “travel companion” who has all different instruments to keep me in check, I may have to soon start singing a different tune if she ever gets to read this and of course she knows perfectly well that I would have trouble making a living as a singer, perhaps a typist, type A personality with a twist, no doubt.

 

I believe that only if one is in the public light, involved with anything that draws from the public funds, whether it be a government job or a company taking the public’s money, i.e. monies obtained from pension funds, then we should know everything there is to know about that individual and the people running those organizations, whether they be government officials or simply folks in charge of charities, otherwise the rest of the folks on this planet, those working hard simply trying to make ends meet should be left completely alone unless of course it looks like their kids are at risk and in which case anyone pointing a finger had pretty be dam sure that they have all the facts and not find themselves simply in situation which has 3 fingers pointing back at them, i.e. never interfere into what is nothing more than a family dispute.

 

Einstein may have finally been touched with light when he at least thought to himself, “How many coincidences does it take before it is no longer a coincidence?” My "travel companion" and I are on our 9th year of traveling though life together on an incredible journey and my plan is to help her 10-year-old son launch on the www.grubbygrub.com website a series of toe cartoon characters coupled with games for all audiences and of course I expect him to promote the Ccrest Bed & Breakfast Café that we are fortunate enough to own.

 

[2] We even shared a fiat spider  that began on the right footing with AU, the symbol for gold. It was impressed on me from a very early age that I was fortunate enough to be born with a “Golden” last name and at no time was it more apparent than when I placed just one ad more than a decade ago in a South African Sunday newspaper that read, “A Name From Here You Can Trust Over There.”

 

[3] Mr. “English” [sic] suggested I contact Matt Potter of the Reader, an “alternative mind reader” no doubt. His voice message reads as follows:

 

“Hello JW August. After thinking about this for a couple of days and I did actually talk to the gentleman [Jeffrey Krinsk]; you’re right he does know you and says you’re a fine person, um I’ve decided to pass anyway. I’ve just got too much on my plate. I don’t have uh, I’m afraid it requires a little bit too much time and that’s one thing I have in small qualities, quantities.

 

 I wish you luck. I would make a suggestion, um you want to hear it. At the Reader which is the alternative publication here in town, and they’re a fearless bunch, Matt Potter is their investigative guy, M-A-T-T  P-O-T-T-E-R. Check him out, he’s got a good rap, he could do it and at the Union Trib, um the investigative guy over there, at least the guy the most active that might be most interested is a guy named  David Washburn, W-A-S-H-B-U-R-N. So the  Reader you’ve got Potter and Washburn, they’re I guess, they are the only other people in town who really do this stuff full time

 

Good luck to you” [sic].

 

[4] Back in late 1998 a prospective client, the president of HomeFed a “spin off” of Leucadia National Corporation one of the more successful financial institutions on Wall Street called Mr. Amos Wright for a reference on me. I was pretty much a “shoe in” for an 8 week assignment that called for me to essentially do nothing more than help the President clean the files off his desk.

 

Less than 3 weeks after the assignment began I ended up in hospital the result of sleep deprivation and a journey through hell which as we know is only here on earth. The president of Leucadia National, the “parent company” of HomeFed had recommended me for this “clean up” job but let Mr. Borden, the president of HomeFed make the final decision in hiring me for a dimwit job that would ultimately be my “shoe in” to the inner sanctums of the elite of the elite Wall Streeters.

 

On December 31st 1998 just two days after spending sum 10 days and God only knows how I got through the nights regaining my weight and stamina in Santa Monica’s St. Johns Hospital for the medically impaired where I had the pleasure of meeting a whole lot more interesting people than the rounded shouldered “spacemen” [sic] running HomeFed I produced my “not so happy” Status Report that obviously had the boys at the top taking careful notice. I seem to recall that the stock of Homefed was trading at around 20 cents a share when I first started my rounds. On November 8th 2002 it reached an all-time high of $1.79.

 

I was, however, warned right from the start by Mr. Amos Wright who called me immediately after putting the phone down to Mr. Borden. What I recall is Mr. Wright in his customary no nonsense style asking, “Why in heaven’s name would you want to work for someone whose first question to me was, “Does Mr. Gevisser get on with everyone?” I responded to Mr. Wright, “At least Mr. Borden is consistent. This was pretty much the same question he first asked me while paying more attention to the shoes I was wearing then the astonishment that came across my face.” I got a real kick out of Mr. Wright’s standard no nonsense knuckleball response to Mr. Borden’s moronic question, “Your Yes men will kill you.”

 

Mr. Wright is a classic example of someone who never let his formal education interfere with his learning.

 

Although I never uncovered any evidence of “fraud” within HomeFed that experience then led me to folks like “Milberg Weiss Bershad Hynes and Leroach” [sic] and guys like Finkelstein and Krinsk although my dog has spent more time in Mr. Finkelstein’s office doing his business both #1 and #2 than I have seen Mr. Finkelstein who I happen to like a lot seated in the exact same spot that my dog just loves to cuc on.

 

My relationship with the firm of Finkelstein and Krinsk all began rather innocently when a mutual cardiologist friend arranged a dinner at a restaurant where only Mr. Krinsk was present. Mr. Finkelstein had received a “banning order” from the owner of the restaurant that had him now feeling a whole lot better.

 

Not only was he depriving himself of rather foul food but the chit chat between the matre de and his lover is something only those deprived of the essence of life would find amusing, ipsofacto why this particular restaurant is a favorite amongst some of the world’s top cardiologists.

 

While one cardiologist and the wives were distracted by the duet another cardiologist sought companionship with my “travel companion” although her red feathered hat did in fact steal the show. During the curtain calls however, Jeffrey Krinsk and I managed to play pong. A few weeks later Jeffrey and I sat down for lunch and enjoyed a delicious meal of chicken pot pie which I assume he correctly wrote off as a business expense.

 

[6] The collapse of the stock market will inevitably lead to a point where the intrinsic value of a company is more than what a company trades which then invites the worst of the worst off the sidelines, the so-called “bottom fishes” who do more than simply throw sand in to the works while looking like they are the “white knights”  in what is commonly referred to as a “work out.”

 

They end up kicking sand, oil and grit into the eyes of momworker63s, orphans, widows and pensioners who are already “brainne dead” [sic] by cutting “kick back” deals with the management who own very little of the company.

 

Sucking on the hind tit can only be headed off by an immediate suspension in the trading of public companies.

 

Back in 1970 my family’s business, Moshal Gevisser, was one of the first so-called “leveraged buyouts” of a public company in South Africa where the bottom fisher, aka Natie Kirsch, was able to cut a deal with the CEO of the company, a family relative, that then afforded Mr. Kirsch the wherewithal to borrow most, if not all, the money needed to buy out the majority of the shareholders who had been spun a line, lies to boot with the accountants and lawyers all bought off, and within a very short time frame the new owners sold off all the assets of the company, mostly real estate put thousands of families out of work, particularly minorities, my farther included, that then propelled Mr. Kirsch into the biggest mug’s game of them all, i.e. insurance., as in A.G.

 

[7] Not every MD may agree with this and I look forward to a blind study test that will show that many MDs lack at a minimum good bedside manners across the board, just ask their nurses who they are not sleeping with.

 

[8] HomeFed Corporation has pretty much the same shareholders as Leucadia National Corporation [LUK] that was spun out of LUK back in 1998. Interesting to note that the chairman Joe Steinberg apparently didn’t take out any compensation in fiscal year 2000. I stopped paying attention to HomeFed on December 31st, 1998 after I was “fired” but not before handing over my “not-so-happy” Status Report, refusing to sign “post employment Confidentiality Agreements.”

 

Despite Leucadia’s involvement in a $6 billion joint venture with Warren “BO” Buffet I continue to believe that Joe Steinberg remains one of the very best corporate executives not just in the United States but can hold his own anywhere in the world, Donny Gordon included.

 

This is still not “a paid for commercial” for Mr. Steinberg despite him having bought some fish from me during the summer of 2002 and nor do I own any shares in any of his companies; in fact I don’t own any shares even though I know how to make not simply billions but trillions given where the stock market is headed unless President Bush takes my advice to immediately suspend trading of public corporations.

 

Quite a bit has happened since I sent that E-mail on July 23rd 2002 to the folks at the Fox Network to mention little of their non-response response which was very telling considering the reaction I got from those on my mailing list; action reaction just like in the raising of children.

 

Naturally there were not as many hyperlinks on that E-mail as there are today. It is rare that I change more than a single word or tTOo in anything I send out that I then save on my website directory adding however other hyperlinks that tend to keep the folks coming back and asking, “What’s Next?”

 

My uncle, Joe Ash and my mother “pretty much” controlled the press. She was in the PR and model agency business. Had anyone dared to write a negative story about the “flesh peddling” business or worse yet how the pharmaceutical companies made out like bandits by selling skin-lightening products to the black market it is likely their revenues would have dropped precipitously much like what SCALs [Shareholder Class Action Litigators] look for when first deciding what publicly traded companies to attack.

 

My mother by the way did in fact dissuade one foreign conglomerate, I think it was “Unievil” [sic] from selling skin lighteners but that didn’t stop others, like Twins Pharmaceuticals from picking up the slack.

 

A general rule of thumb is that a sudden increase or decrease in the value of anything brings with it the forebodings of something unkosher. I was raised in an orthodox Jewish home and I know a thing or two about “dos and don’ts” and of course a lot about hairdos. My mother also ran the number one charm school business in the country.

 

And of course I can produce all the charm in the world once I see folks smiling naturally. Unfortunately there is a lot of put-on everywhere and until such time as we put the most rapacious to bed, turn off their lights completely without the need for additional bloodshed none of us should rest easy.

 

Providing everyone with their needs is easy pickings. The more difficult part of the equation is getting rid of the “wants” and the wannabees.

 

First one starts with taking the crybabies on an educational journey by converting them in to worker bees and before we know it we will have honey bees and baby bees and enough wax to plug into our ears to protect the snorers at all cost.

 

The next part should be even easier convincing folks who do bad that they will return to the face of the earth as ants for the simple reason that the ants are taking over + the fact that if I am right and so far all the evidence seems to support my contention that e=mc² is proof positive of both Evolution as well as “The hand of God.”

 

With that said, I could have used my “insight” which is a far cry from “insider trading” and made at least a billion dollars or tTOo from shorting the two Vivendis during the 6+ month period prior to sending my email to Fox Network given the fact that I knew for “certain” the French boys with their U.S. underlings were up to no good, i.e. desperate people act desperately, as in one week or so after meeting with Governor Davis in the State House, the Chief Executive of U.S. Filter, wholly owned subsidiary of Vivendi Environmental then met with the two co-managing partners of Wetherly Capital, a Democratic Party stronghold, before getting on a plane for Paris where he briefed his Parisian bosses.

 

I not only failed to short even one share of Vivendi stock but I never even got a ride on any of their jets so neatly parked near a desert spring known as Palm Springs. There are a lot of things that “spring tTOo mind” right now none more so than my significant other who is pictured here walking on top of the beach wall that borders the “pink house” which happens to belong to the former head and founder of U.S. Filter, Dick Heckman, who I happened to have sat across from over a rather pleasant lunch which marked the breaking point in a rather interesting ride I had with Mr. Dan Weinstein the co-managing partner of Wetherly Capital just a few months short of those all important meetings with Governor Davis that took place at year end 2001.

 

The individual who set up the meetings for the top dogs of U.S. Filter to meet with the all-powerful governor of California is now working for U.S. Filter, an old stomping ground where he and Dan Weinstein used to hang out together.

 

U.S. Filter happen to own some 42,000 acres of not exactly prime real estate in the Imperial Irrigation District but which is more than piece of dog meat at least the Bass Brothers thought so when they sold it to Dick Heckman.  

 

Water has a way of bringing folks not simply together but into realty check. I now have these Wetherly Capital folks check mated and the only question is who is willing to stick their neck out alongside me in bringing these folks to justice.

 

One final footnote. Just in the time period between December 11, 2002 when I sent out my “Hey” E-mail I could have made at least another billion dollars or tTOo just on AIG and Berkshire Hathaway stock and how many folks would have then called me “mad” to mention little of the benefits of being “dead write” [sic]?.

 

On February 4th alone there were almost 36 million shares traded of AIG. On November 8th of last year, which happens to be “Hey’s” birthday, AIG was trading at some $65 per share. Two months later to the day it was down sum 28%, a $47 billion odd drop in market capitalization and of course I nor anyone close to me traded a single share.