(Market Watch, December 6, 2017, 9:39am, https://www.marketwatch.com/)
[These are some notes I wrote (typed) yesterday, December 5, 2017, during the time Mormon computer gremlins illegally prevented me from accessing the internet. cc all Mormon barristers]
I used to dread Sunday mornings, during the time Wesley was living with my husband and me, on 13th Street in Park Slope Brooklyn. It was too emotionally painful, standing at the window watching my husband and our grandson Wesley waiting for a car service (cab) to drive them to the Mormon Church of Satan Sixth Avenue Baptist Church. Sometimes my husband would find some reason to yell at our grandson—that is what was so emotionally painful.
Probably my husband was frustrated because the car service was taking too long—he would sometimes look up at the window and tell me to call the car service again—but more frustrated because he no longer owned a car. I do not know if my husband was told to yell at our grandson, I only know that it was emotionally painful for me each time he did.
Wesley’s chore was carrying the garbage and putting the garbage in the garbage receptacle, on their way out on Sunday mornings. A few times my husband yelled at Wesley, maybe he wasn’t putting the garbage in the garbage receptacle fast enough or correctly enough.
It was even more emotionally painful when a neighbor was in the middle of the street playing ball with his son, and my husband was yelling at our grandson. I don’t think the neighbor would have been in the middle of the street playing ball with his son, had he not been assigned to do so.
One of the most emotionally painful experiences I’ve ever experienced happened one Sunday when I received a telephone call from Wesley telling me Mrs. Pledger, Pastor Pledger’s wife, was driving him (Wesley) home to change clothes; she was taking her children and Wesley and some other children from church, to the playground. He was so excited. It was so seldom he ever went any place, other than with me. So seldom he ever played with other children. How my heart ached!
(I know it seems I only care about Wesley and not his sisters, my daughter’s other two children, or my other two grandsons or my great grandchildren or anyone else. Not true. I do care, deeply.)
Another painfully emotional experience, one day Wesley, 11 or 12 years old, and I were at Prospect Park West. Too old to mix and mingle with other children in the park his age, he had a stick batting pine cones by himself, and he asked me if we could come back the next week so he could toss some more cones.
One day when Wesley, five or six years old, was visiting us, he asked if he could go to the park to play. My husband did not respond, so, I took Wesley to the park. It was wintertime. We threw a ball back and forth and it was very emotionally painful for me.
One day when Wesley was in kindergarten at P.S. 107 he sat at the kitchen table, our apartment on 12th Street between 6th Avenue and 7th Avenue, Park Slope Brooklyn, ball in hand, excitedly waiting for me to finish getting dressed to take him to the playground. When I came out of the bathroom, Wesley’s head was on the table, he was fast asleep; his knees were shaking. By the time I comprehended that he was fast asleep, he was fast awake.
Another time when Wesley was in kindergarten at P.S. 107, on our way to school, while waiting for the light on 7th Avenue at 13th Street, Wesley collapsed and fell down. By the time I comprehending what had happened, that he had lost consciousness, and collapsed, he was fast awake. (Coincidentally a classmate, Brian, and his mom, were walking in back of us. I suspect that Brian’s mom is a federal agent or an assistant to federal agents whether she wants to be or not, though I do not suspect that she pressed an easy button because easy button laser beams were not yet perfected. I hope and pray Brian is not today being used as a symbol of CIA-M15 agent Orwell’s O’Brien.)
I cannot remember the other incident that happened when Wesley lost consciousness. Without telling his mother that I was taking Wesley to the doctor, to find out what was causing the loss of consciousness that only happened when Wesley was with me (because I was sure she and my husband would think I was crazy) I took Wesley to his doctor’s office, his mother’s medical doctor, an office in Brooklyn Heights. I paid cash for the visit. The doctor had no explanation as to why Wesley was passing out losing consciousness (which, again, only happened when he was with me).
When Wesley and I went to see the Music Man on Broadway, throughout the performance, sporadically Wesley’s knees were shaking but he did not seem to notice, and when I asked him if he was in any pain or discomfort, he said no.
INCREDIBLY, an announcement was made before the show began, announcing that former President Carter was in the audience!
Early on, when I first began writing and distributing information via USPS, I wrote in one of my writings that I admire Rosalyn Carter, and I had also contributed $100 to the Carter Foundation, at Emory University in Atlantic Georgia. During intermission Wesley and I went to the first floor (Wesley and I had seats in the balcony), I asked a man who looked like he was probably a Secret Service agent (he was) where is President Carter and he told me he stepped outside but would be back, so, we waited for President Carter and when President Carter extended his hand to shake Wesley’s hand, Wesley did not shake hands because he was upset because rather than wait to meet President Carter, he wanted to go to the lobby for candy. I did not purchase any candy or beverage, I do not believe in eating candy and popcorn and drinking cokes during Broadway performances.
Speaking of performances, when Wesley’s mom graduated from Fordham University, the graduation ceremony was not held on Fordham campus, as usual. Fordham University graduation that year was held at City Center, home of the Alvin Ailey Dance Company. Graduates and parents and friends were not able to take any pictures, not really; it was extremely crowded.
P.S. 107 is now known as the Kimball School in honor of the Mormon Church of Satan president who had a “revelation” allowing black males to temporarily participate in some of the Mormon Church of Satan priesthood activities.
My husband took Wesley for swimming lessons at McBurney YMCA, for two years when Wesley one two to three years old or three to four years, but other than that, he did not spend any recreational time with Wesley.
It was very emotionally painful for me when Wesley developed an interest in tennis, and my husband, for decades an avid tennis player, did not help Wesley pursue that interest. He never took Wesley to a tennis court. He even did not go with Wesley and me to the U.S. Open when I invited him.
When Wesley developed an interest in basketball, my husband paid for Chelsea Piers basketball camp for Wesley, two summers, but never went to a basketball court with Wesley.
I am not condemning my husband. I continue to state clearly that I firmly believe he was in a situation beyond his control.
Wesley was on the basketball team at St. Patrick’s Grammar School in Jersey City. Wesley lived in Park Slope Brooklyn with his grandfather and me, he attended grammar school in Jersey City. It was insane! It would have made some sense, if Wesley was an exceptional student attending an elite school.
I made two trips to Jersey City each day, to take Wesley to school and to meet him after school. One day per week I met my husband at Chambers Street, downtown Manhattan, I cannot remember what day of the week. On his way from his office in Manhattan to Jersey City, he would give me his briefcase, to carry back to the apartment in Park Slope, and he would go to Jersey City to meet Wesley after basketball practice. It was crazy! Wesley was not an exceptional basketball player. I did not want to carry my husband’s brief case, I felt uncomfortable carrying a man’s briefcase on the subway, but I did, because I did not know how to say no to my husband. To keep peace in my home I did not say no.
Right around that time, Nat purchased a new pillow for Wesley. Very unusual. I always purchased household items. I do not know when the blue and white stripe mattress on Wesley’s bed was changed to a flowery mattress; it had to have been during a time he was not living with us or visiting us regularly, when he and his mom were living in Columbus, Ohio because I did not notice the change right away.
After basketball practice Nat and Wesley would walk from Bramhall Avenue to Martin Luther King Drive. They would then walk along Martin Luther King Drive from Bramhall Avenue to Ege Avenue, the Light Rail. That walk is one of the most poverty stricken unsafe to walk at night neighborhoods in Jersey City. Ege Avenue is now renamed Addison McLeon Avenue, in honor of Nat’s uncle. The Davis family’s Nostalgia Bar is on Martin Luther King Drive, at Ege Avenue aka Addison McLeon Avenue. A sign reading “Play is Work” or “Work is Play” (a play on words from CIA-M15 agent George Orwell’s 1984 “how-to” manual) is engraved on the bridge overpass, right next to Nostalgia Bar however shortly after I wrote about it, the black children accompanying the wording were removed, though the names of grammar school students are still engraved on a glass wall seating area at Martin Luther King Drive Light Rail stop, names engraved like names of casualities in a war. I do not think Nat would have made that walk, he and our grandson once a week at night along Martin Luther King Drive, if he felt he had a choice.
It is important that I document again the fact that, Wesley’s mom did not give us permission to have Wesley live with us. When she moved from Newkirk Street to, coincidentally, Claremont Avenue the street on which I lived, and P.S. 11 told her Wesley could no longer attend P.S. 11, my husband told me to call the Catholic schools near Claremont Avenue, to see about Wesley transferring to a Catholic school rather than attending a public school. Sacred Heart on Bayview Avenue was not accepting any more students. St. Patrick’s, on Bramahll Avenue, was still accepting students. The following day Nat and I went to St. Patricks and registered Wesley for school, without his mother’s objection. Weeks later, when Wesley expressed to us that he wanted to live with us, and we thought about how unsafe along Ocean Avenue the walk from Claremont Avenue to Bramhall Avenue, we let Wesley live with us, without his mother’s consent, though she did not take us to court.
I began taking Wesley to school each day (St Patricks Grammar School).
Twice I asked Nat if Wesley could transfer to a Catholic school in our neighborhood. Both times Nat said no. Each time he said, in order for Wesley to be accepted at St. Peter’s Prep, it is important for him to graduate from a Catholic grammar school in Jersey City. He also said we couldn’t afford to pay tuition at a Catholic grammar school in our neighborhood and I told him the money he was spending for carfare for Wesley and me to go back and forth to Jersey City each day (MTA/PATH/bus four times a day), was more than enough to pay the tuition! He still refused to allow Wesley to transfer to a school in Park Slope. It was pure insanity! (And all well planned, years earlier, while Wesley was still in his mother’s womb.)
After a confrontation incident involving another male student at St. Patrick’s Grammar School, I took Wesley to a public school in Park Slope Brooklyn, P.S. 51, a “gifted and talented” school, to see if he could transfer. After reviewing his transcript, he was not accepted probably because teacher comments indicated that he has some behavior issues. I went to the Board of Education and inquired about a transfer for Wesley. Seats in two schools were available: a grammar school in John Jay High School in Park Slope though few of the high school students and grammar school students actually live in Park Slope, and a Kahail Gibran school (I later found out when I moved here, YWCA, it’s the school across the street from the deli on State Street) that has classes in the Arabic language. I did not even broach the idea to my husband or Wesley’s mom because in my opinion neither option was better than his current situation.
I telephoned Saint Saviour Catholic Grammar School in Park Slope and inquired about the basketball team, which was open to, not only Saint Saviour students but any students—I had seen a flyer for the basketball team. I was told to go to the Hallmark gift shop (on Prospect Park West between Windsor Place and Prospect Avenue or between Prospect Place and 17th Street) to get an application from the coach’s wife. So I did, and a week or so later I received a telephone call from a woman telling me she is the coach’s wife. She told me basketball practice would be held at P.S. 51 school, Saturday mornings. When I took Wesley to P.S. 51 that next Saturday morning, the coach’s wife was not the same woman in Hallmark gift shop. The coach is Chinese. Their son’s name is Dylan.
The name Dylan was not yet of any significance to me. I knew about the mind-controlled Columbine massacre, but I was not familiar with the names, and Dylan Storm Roof massacre had not yet been orchestrated.
One of the most emotionally painful experiences I’ve ever had was sitting in the bleachers at Xaxier High School in Manhattan, summer 2007, watching my grandson Wesley play basketball with other students from St. Peter’s Prep in Jersey City. All of the players, except Wesley, were tall. Most of them looked like 12th graders. Wesley was attending St. Peter’s Prep summer program for 8th graders. Wesley was running back and forth, completely ignored by the other players. It looked like a comedy performance, how my heart ached! That was not the only cruel joke played on my grandson, Wesley. Wesley began freshman year high school at St. Peter’s Prep. Before the end of the year he was transferred from St. Peter’s Prep, one of the best schools in New Jersey, to Lincoln High School, one of the worst schools in New Jersey.
September 2008, my husband purchased for Wesley, for freshman year high school, four polo shirts: one white with black trim around the collar; one navy with white trim around the collar; one beige with white trim around the collar, and one solid charcoal gray. Nat also purchased for Wesley one or two white shirts, pants, underwear, and a pair of Cole Haan loafers.
Wesley was happy when he was a student at P.S. 11 school. One day my daughter telephoned me and asked me to go to P.S. 11, an accident had happened. She was at work, teaching in Waldwick, New Jersey. Wesley needed to go to the emergency room. I went to P.S. 11. While playing basketball during lunch or recess, another student pushed Wesley, accidentally, into the corner of a brick wall. Christ the King Emergency Room personnel sewed stitches in Wesley’s forehead. The scar remained on his forehead for many years. The boy who accidentally pushed Wesley is Arab Muslim. I do not know if his parents made no effort to speak to my daughter because of their culture, or because they were told not to. I do not know if Mr. McCulsky knew ahead of time there would be an accident.
One of the most painful emotional experiences I’ve ever experienced was whenever Wesley and I rode the Martin Luther King Drive bus from Bramhall Avenue to Journal Square, as the bus approached P.S. 11 School Wesley would plead with me for us to get off the bus so he could say hello to his friends at P.S. 11. A huge billboard advertising Cochran law firm was right across the street from P.S. 11 School which is also known as Martin Luther King School though most of the students are not African American; most students are Hispanic and Arab and a few white. (At that time, 2006, there was another school on Newkirk Street at Dick Street, if I am not mistaken, that school was all black.). It was too emotionally draining, me having to say no to Wesley, so, we began waiting for the Ocean Avenue bus which ran less frequently than the Martin Luther King Drive bus.
I would sometimes wonder, Why are there two huge billboards advertising Johnny Cochran Law Firm (one on Bergen Avenue across the street from P.S. 11 School aka Martin Luther King School near Scalia Barber Shop, and one on Montgomery Avenue in the vicinity of Dickinson High School) when there is no Johnny Cochran law firm in Jersey City? And then, a year or two later when Johnny Cochran died, I knew, it was a prophetic billboard message, sponsored by the Mormon Church of Satan.
Most “millenials” who are followers of the Mormon Church of Satan’s/CIA’s Kardashian Klan Klowns, do not know that, their father is connected to the OJ Simpson trial.
tF [transform] Bed for Small Spaces [Murphy bed]
Custom horizontal and vertical wall beds. The possibilities are endless.
(Market Watch, December 6, 2017, https://www.marketwatch.com/)
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 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)
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)