First, let me “bid” you a Happy New Year as you give thought to making me a bid I cannot refuse on Reg Gammon’s painting which we dub, “Blue Donkey”.
As a general rule I tend to only respond to “loonatics” [sic] emailing me, choosing very occasionally to respond to someone such as yourself who is not only a stranger but someone despite being “British” versus me “half English” apparently very sane.
I also prefer to be very direct when dealing with a homogeneous “audience” which is why you will notice my very heavily broadcasted missives being increasingly understood beginning with the “method to my madness”.
It is, however, important to continue to appreciate that what I am doing in taking my adversaries on one educational light journey after the next is not an intellectual exercise that is something the likes of Aristotle, Plato and perhaps the most articulate of all Tolstoy have accomplished long ago articulating better than I could ever imagine not only the ills of the world but how easily they could be remedied were it not for the fact that the “elitists” amongst us would prefer such intellectualism remain in book form.
The time is now 4:36 PM Pacific Standard Time and I just witnessed a surfer directly in front of our over the top RENTED and well elevated one of a kind studio house which the owners have labeled Carriage House, surfing the largest and longest wave I have ever seen surfed from this vantage point, his orange surfboard illuminating rather well given the grayish skies to mention little of the photo of one of Gammons works which Dr. John K. Pollard brought to my attention which apparently sold for twenty two hundred English Pounds Sterling demonstrating a number of things including the fact that “Blue Donkey” has to be worth considerably more than this one titled Two Boats that has what looks more like a penis than a mast in the dead center of the painting, the most atrocious sky to mention little of Gammon’s use of dark lines to establish the shape indicative of someone who while able to draw brilliantly which so few can do, even fewer can get even close to being able to paint using colors to express themselves much the same as “G-d-NA-ture who art in heaven”.
was first of all confusion between myself and my buddy
While Matisyahu, the Hasidic reggae singer was in full swing rocking the way you would expect a tall slender Black Hatter with diamonds weaved in to both his locks as well as tussles hanging out of his pants, to the rhythm of the reggae beat, MDG unlike the South African Jewish people at the table next to us wearing ear plugs quite obviously not wanting to hear the great music, bent slightly forward and in her very erotic French accent simply asked the screw ball bitch daring to think that we were like 99.9999% of the “filthy rich”:
“Did you pay to sit at this table?”
and without missing a beat the knucklehead bitch responded, “No, did you?” for “sum” reason not expecting MDG to respond logically with, “Yes!” and in the next instant which seemed to me to be less than a picosecond, the crap filled bitch lifted her ass off the high stool, probably crapped in her panties as I imagined myself then throwing both stools in her face, you would know that a fart is nothing less than airborne particles of feces, then in the same instant glanced over to her “phatso” [sic] boyfriend who was standing right in front of me blocking my view of the stage, you getting more of a picture why I chose to keep my big mouth shut, and before I could come out of MDG’s G-string both the SIGNIFICANTly lightened crapper and this guy who had he picked up on the multiple strokes experienced by his girlfriend could have collapsed down on my exposed legs, keep remembering where everything including my big nose was firmly deposited, plunked himself down most probably crushing my bones into dust leaving not a particle for my poor Super Italian Greyhound to chew on at my funeral celebrations, made off like bats out of hell.
Two beers later and soon after midnight without MDG getting up and dancing on the table we all headed home, the ceiling above would have required she crouch much like she did when dancing with me once she had cleared the way of the bozos, her dance moves having this one elderly black gentleman seated a couple of tables away in the opposite direction to the south African Jewish people when Marie went to ladies room less than a minute before midnight and missed not only the countdown but the ringing in of the New Year, blow me a kiss followed by twice mouthing the word, “Wow”.
I didn’t happen to know the 2, what I assumed to be South African couples, who unlike most Jewish South Africans I know out on the town tend to talk so loudly as if they own the place which of course they do, making the “broad leap of faith” without actually picking up on any of their South African accents that in all probability all 4 of them came out of the same shtetl in Vilnius, Lithuania as my grandfather Israel Issy Gevisser who given his good looks and very smart Yiddisha kop-Jewish brain no doubt had a recent ancestor smart enough to “out breed”?
The two Jewish women, actually quite difficult to tell the men apart from their dates, appeared as shocked as we were by what caused us to want to get the hell out there despite the extraordinary talents of this Hassidic Jewish young man and his very talented band.
What caused us as well as one of the Jewish South African
women to depart in a hurry was what took place soon after Matisyahu gave an expl
You would agree it is important I make mention of the SIGNIFICANCE of the close presence and meaningful words of this one most handsome elderly black gentleman and what I believe were 3 other very well put together black people in a sea of Lilly White Wheaty Eating nincompoops, considering how much smarter the “average” people of color are then the “average” LWWE when simply while avoiding as much as possible painting with a broad brush the absolute fact of colored peoples’ SIGNIFICANTly higher intelligence, their significantly greater rhythm the most visible signage forget as hard as we try the fact that their hand eye coordination reflected in every sport they dominate when choosing to enter, again the most visible reflection of their significantly greater intelligence, his “Wow” followed by “Wow” at least to me, meaning a whole lot more than the reaction of each and every one of the LWWE folk in the VIP section, both the men and women including those who were clearly not gay simply not able to contain their state of shock, jaws opened so wide that at one point had me taking out the slender Sony camera that has a video component to it and filming what became more of a crowd pleaser than what was occurring on stage.
The empty seat at our table had me, even before Matisyahu at the midnight hour bringing on stage an oversized Menorah, pulling a member of the audience to join a local rabbi light the candles, a ritual of the “Head of Change”, thinking what if Leo Tolstoy an 18th Century “elitist” whose works I have never read was seated beside me.
Tolsky who died in 1910 the year my grandfather Issy Gevisser founded The Moshal Gevisser Group of Companies starting out by pushing a wheel barrow picking up unbroken bottles off the dirt streets of Durban, South Africa, is a name along with his breathtaking philosophies mentioned repeatedly from possibly well before I first began to talk at age 3 by my extraordinary literate Royal Mater who seemed to understand better than anyone although I can read probably as well as most people I know, when compared to her speed as well as comprehension of the written word I was SIGNIFICANTly disadvantaged, it making sense for my ever so kind and patient mother to simply provide me with the briefest of summaries much like what my extraordinary brilliant wife has been doing over the course of the past week as she reads one of Tolsky’s masterpieces.
No doubt MDG is as impressed as my RM who has no doubt feared for my personal safety were I to begin speaking out, always after sharing revolutionary philosophies that not only make perfect sense but could so easily if explained simply as she and my wife are so capable of doing, leading in the next instant to world peace, my RM always feeling the need to end with Confucius’,
“The tallest trees attract the most wind.”
While members of the VIP crowed couldn’t take their minds off MDG who could so easily pass for a young college student especially when watching her make the most of “space” I was spacing out on imagining what Tolsky would make of such a situation where given the Digital Age, A G-D-Send, we have the past and the future all coming “to-get-her” [sic] in the present, his “beliefs” of “elitists” using what they knew to be the total bs of the so corrupt church who had so warped the genius and “goodness” of religion to their advantage in keeping the masses populating like wild beasts, in stark contrast to my “knowledge” of how finally we are at the point of bridging the information divide that has kept the have-nots from getting at the haves.
It remains difficult for me to explain a number of things that I “know” versus “believe”, choosing simply to try, while giving no one “competitive advantage”, spread my knowledge in a way that is not only void of arrogance but like art which the “elite” have always tried to keep mysterious so afraid of its “beauty” being easily understood by the masses who are too busy trying to make ends meet to have the luxury of time to time to work out why it is that “elitists” make everything they touch beginning with art and ending with the so convoluted laws so “necessarily” complicated.
Back on 8/9/99 [August 9th, 1999] at 10:11 pm eastern standard time in message 1161 on the Revlon Yahoo message board I wrote a 324 [I was born on March 24th] word posting that had as its title the 8 Greek words, T0 PSAR VROMAI APO TO KEFALI KAI DATO which translate into English, “The Fish Rots From The Head Down.”
Contained in this anything but literary work of art were, however, rather important pieces of information that were very well understood to a good number of the “ruling elite” including their stooges like journalist author Christopher Byron whose first name is mentioned.
his “pimps” are bracing for the next shoe to fall given how I have now
essentially completed my life’s work, the “finishing touches” to be provided by
the likes of Annie George along with my wife needing relatively minor
assistance from a handful of males like genius
Today, this moment I am “nailing to the cross” the DeBeers-Anglo American Cartel, the mafia of mafia, the terrorist of terrorist financing organization whose heads have real names, real addresses, real bank accounts, the DAAC, in my ingenious wife’s words, “interfering with the light”.
This very rotten fish being understood by the masses who don’t need their parents, teachers and professors to explain anything other then why they have waited so long bring their “pimps” to justice.
Time to fly to our rock home, increasingly not just my place of “refuge”.
[Word count 2700]
Sent: Sunday, January 01, 2006 3:44 AM
Subject: Re: reg gammon oil painting.
Wishing you a very happy new year.
I look forward to seeing the image soon and in the mean time I will try to read further into your previous email. I prefer to be more direct in my communications.
Being British, I am fascinated to see that you are happy to share your personal life to an apparent stranger. Do you get any loonatics emailing you? On the other hand I am sure your emails drive some people to insanity, but I think I can see a method amongst the madness. Do you think the president reads your emails?
From: John K. Pollard Jr.
Sent: Saturday, December 31, 2005 5:36 PM
To: gary s gevisser
Subject: Reg Gammon