CREAM O LAND dairy truck and NYPD vehicle, 8th Avenue between 46th Street and 47th Street, May 23, 2018
(Australia Stock Exchange, May 24, 2018 1pm Sydney; May 23, 2018 11pm New York, several hours after the rest of the information posted herein, www.asx.com.au)
Own your tomorrow
The A2 MILK COMPANY LIMITED
(Australia Stock Exchange, May 24, 2018 1pm Sydney; May 23, 2018 11pm New York, several hours after the rest of the information posted herein, www.asx.com.au/index.htm)
God’s visible organization’s Annual Meeting, October 2016
May 23, 2018, 3:30pm. About Me. I’m at Starbucks, 8th Avenue at 47th Street.
WERNER ladder, Starbucks, 8th Avenue at 47th Street, May 23, 2018
I took the CREAM O LAND picture earlier, before I entered Pret a Manger. When Pret a Manger employee rang up my purchase, blueberry muffin and coffee—CHEERS!—I was the winner! I told her, whatever I “won”, I do not want. I sat until it was time to go and make an important message from me announcement to theatergoers on line to see Mormon Church of Satan’s Hamilton musical (high school students, mostly black) and theatergoers on line to see Donna Summers musical. After I made the announcement, I went to Staples to have a new sign made, with initial caps only for this one of my two websites—I think probably it will be easier to read. The print for my other website (CAROLINE-KENNEDY-2020.COM) will stay as is. The new sign will be ready tomorrow. (I am hopeful that FBI agents who’re not involved in the Mormon Church of Satan’s hidden agenda will make sure Mormon Danites/Danettes do not arrange to have the sign printed in gray letters or difficult to read font or cloudy lamination.)
This is a picture of JEN’S NAIL STUDIO, Staples, 8th Avenue between 47th Street and 48th Street, May 23, 2018.
This is a picture of a bottle of nail polish showcased this morning, May 23, 2018, on the counter in the kitchen where I live, YWCA Brooklyn.
WIN Cosmetics brand nail polish, YWCA Brooklyn 11th floor kitchen, May 23, 2018
WIN Cosmetic GmbH & Co KG: Company Profile – Bloomberg
BH Contest Rules – BH Cosmetics
Later, in the hallway on my way to Manhattan when I saw this paint can showcased near the elevator vestibule, I was mentally prepared that a Sherman Williams truck would drive by when I went outside, May 23, 2018.
Paints, Stains, Colors & Supplies
(Stain on Illinois LDS, Bing search,
I was mistaken. No Sherwin Williams paint truck drove by YWCA entrance, May 23, 2018. Instead, a Benjamin Moore paint truck was on Third Avenue, and turned the corner onto Atlantic Avenue, Beauty Road.
CHAPTER 9Herta1940…”Good day, ladies. Any of you who are over fifty years old, have a temperature above forty degrees, or are pregnant, step to the side, and we’ll make sure you get a rest, after your typhus inoculations. I can only take sixty-five, so step up now.”The women talked among themselves, some translating instructions into other languages, and soon volunteers emerged.”Here, this is my mother,” said one young woman as she prodded an older woman forward. “She has been coughing so hard she cannot work.””Of course,” Fritz said.One obviously pregnant, dark-skinned girl with brown, heavily lashed eyes like those of a dairy cow came forward and smiled at Fritz, her arms crossed, resting on her swollen belly. In minutes Fritz had his sixty-five candidates, and he instructed a guard to accompany them to the Revier. At least they went along calmly.”Since when is there a vaccine for typhus?” I asked, keeping my voice low, in case some of the prisoners understood German.“Of course it doesn’t exist. On average sick Haftlings only live fourteen days, so we’re simply hastening the process. It’s far more humane than other methods.”Fritz led us to my new workplace, the Revier, the prisoner medical clinic, housed in a low-slung block identical to the rest. The front reception area opened onto a large room filled with cots and bunk beds, crowded with patients, some lying on the bare floor, some in advanced stages of disease. One Haftling hosted such an abundance of adult lice, her short hair was white with them, and she had scratched great patches of her skin raw. Not a quality operation.
A young prisoner nurse named Gerda Quernheim greeted us. Gerda, a pretty, chestnut-haired girl from Dusseldorf, had attended the School of Midwifery there. She was an excellent nurse, but even Gerda couldn’t handle the Revier.
Fritz led us down the hall, past a large meat locker, not unlike Heinz’s.
“What is this?” I asked, touching the door, cold and damp with condensation. I brushed away a flash of Onkel Heinz’s face.
“Cold storage,” Fritz said. “Gebhardt’s.”
Fritz led me to a back room, painted a soothing, pale green, two stools and a tall lab table the only furniture. The light caught the silver barrel of a syringe, one of three laid out on the table, certainly not sterile. A gray rubber apron hung on a wall hook swayed with the breeze as we entered. The windows in that part of the building were painted white, like cloudy cataract eyes. It felt claustrophobic, as if we were snowed in.
“Why are these windows painted over?” I asked.
“Gebhardt is a freak for privacy,” Fritz said.
“Honestly, Fritz, I am tired from the train today.”
“Take half of a pethidine if you have to,” Fritz said, his brow creased. “Would you rather take a last call? Shooting-wall duty.”
“Shooting wall?” I said. “Perhaps this is better.”
“Much tidier. The first is the hardest; trust me. Like jumping in a cold lake.”
Two Aufscherinnen brought in the first prisoner from Fritz’s selection, a surprisingly spry older woman wearing only wooden clogs and a blanket over her shoulders. She tried to speak to Fritz in Polish through a jumble of confused teeth.
Fritz smiled. “Yes, yes, come in. We’re just preparing the inoculations.”
He tied on the rubber apron.
“Kill them with kindness,” Fritz said. “Makes it easier for all.”
The Aufscherinnen led the old woman to the stool. Over my shoulder I watched Gerda load a 2-cc hypodermic syringe, drawing enough yellowish-pink Evipan into the barrel to kill an ox.
“We painted this room pale green since it soothes patients,” Fritz said.
The Aufseherinnen removed the blanket, wrapped a towel around the woman’s face, and held her left arm out as if preparing for a venous injection.
“Injections were not my forte in medical school,” I said.
One of the Aufseherinnen pressed her knee into the old woman’s back to thrust her chest forward.
Fritz pressed the heavy syringe into my palm.
“Look, you are doing them a favor,” Fritz said. “Think of them as sick dogs needing to be put down. Do this well and they won’t suffer.”
The woman must have seen the needle, for she began to fight the guards and flailed her freed arm. That would be all I needed—Fritz telling Koegel I couldn’t handle a syringe.
I backed away, a milky drop at the tip of the needle. “I’ll try it tomorrow.”
“Here,” Fritz said, wrapping his arms around me from behind. “We’ll do it together.”
He covered my hand that was holding the syringe with his and placed the fingers of my other hand on the woman’s skin, above the rib cage. The guards used her arms like a straightjacket, and Fritz slid my fingers down the torso, to the fifth rib space.
“Close your eyes,” Fritz said. “Feel it? Just below the left breast.”
I pressed my fingers deep into the warm, crepey skin.
“Yes,” I said.
“Good. Almost done.”
Fritz placed his thumb over mine on the plunger, guided my hand to the spot, then helped me plunge the needle in. I felt the pop as it punctured the rib space.
“Stay with me now,” Fritz said, his lips soft against my ear. “Breathe.”
Fritz pressed our thumbs against the smooth knob with steady force, sending the Evipan straight to the heart. The woman reared back, but the guards held her in place.
“Steady, now,” Fritz said, his mouth close to my ear. “Just fourteen seconds. Count backward.”
“Fourteen, thirteen, twelve …”
I opened my eyes and saw the towel fall from the woman’s face, her lower lip pulled down in a hideous grimace.
“Eleven, ten, nine …”
The woman struggled, and I took deep breaths to fight a wave of nausea.
“Eight, seven, six …”
She reared up as if in cardiac distress, then fell limp and unresponsive.
Fritz released me.
“She was a quick one,” he said. “You’re drenched.”
One of the Aufseherinnen dragged the old woman off to the side of the room. Gerda left to fetch the next subject.
“Gerda is Rosenthal’s girlfriend,” Fritz said, as he made notes on a clipboard. “He did a termination on her. Keeps it in a jar in Gebhardt’s refrigerator. She picks pet Haftlings to treat with a warm bath, complete with flowers. Combs their hair and tells them sweet stories before she brings them here.”
I walked toward the door for air. “How do you do this, Fritz? It’s so—”
“It’s no glamour job, but if you leave, there will be a replacement here tomorrow. We handle a certain quota every month. Orders from Berlin. It can’t be helped.”
“Of course it can be helped. We can refuse to do it.”
Fritz refilled the syringe. “Good luck with Koegel on that one.”
“Well, I can’t do this.” How could I have ended up in such a place?
Hellinger entered the room with his leather roll of tools. I tried not to listen as he removed the woman’s dental metals. He stamped the cheek with a star to mark her as completed.
“You’ll be fine, Herta,” Fritz said. “Once you get used to it.”
“I’m not staying. I didn’t go to medical school to do this—”
“That’s what I said too,” said Hellinger, with a laugh. He tucked the cotton sack of gold into his coat pocket.
“Me too,” Fritz said. “And then, before I knew it, three months passed. After that, you’re here to stay, so make up your mind soon.”
There was no question. I would be gone by sunrise.
(Lilac Girls, Martha Hall Kelly, pages 119-123, emphasis added)
temporary tattoo on cheek
Starbucks, 32nd Street across the street from Mormon Church of Satan’s JCPenney, May 16, 2018
This NYU graduate, an Asian female, is now a plaintiff in a legal case against Berkshire Hathaway, Accenture, Citi, IBM, JCPenney, Verizon and other corporations including the Mormon Church of Satan. The Asian male who was with her, the picture I took of the tattoo on his cheek is not clear, however, he, too, is a plaintiff in a legal case against Berkshire Hathaway, Accenture, Citi, IBM, JCPenney, Verizon and other corporations including the Mormon Church of Satan. cc all Mormon barristers
THIS IS AN IMPORTANT MESSAGE FROM ME: NO POWER ON EARTH CAN PREVENT THE IMPENDING STOCK MARKET CRASH, WORLDWIDE.
THIS IS ANOTHER AN IMPORTANT MESSAGE FROM ME:
No matter how many people think otherwise, Jehovah’s Witnesses really is God’s visible organization.
The wrath of Jehovah God really is upon the Mormon Church of Satan, no matter how many people think otherwise.
The stock market really is going to crash, worldwide, no matter how many people think otherwise.
No matter how many people think otherwise, Caroline Kennedy will be elected President in the year 2020; Jim Turner of Texas will be elected Vice President; Robert Kennedy Jr. will be nominated and confirmed U.S. Attorney General; Robert Mueller will be nominated and confirmed Director of the FBI.
No power on earth has the power to prevent this prophetic message that I write from becoming reality, not even these four people themselves. I write under inspiration from and with authority from, God, the true God, Jehovah. cc all Mormon barristers
THIS IS ANOTHER AN IMPORTANT MESSAGE FROM ME:
Mayor Warren Wilhelm aka Bill de Blasio is the clean-up man, if the Mormon Church of Satan/CIA succeed in their planned nuclear bomb attack on the Hudson River. His administration is already prepared to hold tribunals and immediately execute some of the “troublemakers” (30,000 bananas; nationwide: 30,000 guillotines, to be continued)
Partial List of Scapegoats, if the Mormon Church of Satan/CIA succeed in their nuclear bomb attack on the Hudson River:
Former President Barack “Hussein” Obama
Former Advisor to the President, Valerie “June” Jarrett
Former Homeland Security Director “Jeh” Johnson
Newark Mayor Ras Baraka
Minnesota Congressman FBI agent Keith “Ellison”
New York Congressman FBI agent Hakim Jeffries
Former leader of the CIA’s Black Panthers: FBI agent “Malik Zulu Shabazz”
Former Public Relations Spokesman for Mormon Church, FBI agent “Ahmad” Corbitt (now assigned to the Dominican Republic)
[greasy looking Latino American man and African American man made up to look like former President Barack Hussein Obama wearing Joseph Smith’s white shirt]
[Former presidential candidate Joseph Smith (1844), author of “U.S. Constitution hanging by a thread” prophecy:]
The purpose of this website is to expose the Mormon Church of Satan and all enemies of Jesus Christ the Way the Truth the Life, the Prince of Peace. This website is also the beginning of a presidential campaign to elect Caroline Kennedy President of the United States. I prayed to Jehovah God to please, by means of His son Christ Jesus, please, arrange national events and world events in such a manner such that Caroline Kennedy is elected President of the United States. I know Jehovah God hears my prayer and will answer my prayer because that particular prayer of mine is one of my deepest desires and Jehovah God has promised me that he will satisfy all of my deepest desires. All of the information posted at this website is interconnected; directly connected to the Mormon Church of Satan’s illegal sting operation surrounding Jehovah’s Witnesses worldwide, and me. The illegal sting operation that encompasses every human being on earth, and has resulted in the LEGAL CASE, unlike any other, ever. The LEGAL CASE, headed to The Hague, Netherlands. cc all Mormon attorneys
Maintain Your Focus on Jesus!
(Matthew 14:22-34; Hebrews 12:2)
(Concluding talk, Jehovah’s Witnesses Convention 2015, worldwide)