DR. WYCOMB, IT turned out, had taken several days’ vacation to be our hostess. Our first order of business was for my grandmother to acquire her sable stole, which, as by then I had intuited would happen, Dr. Wycomb paid for with no discussion. Over the next several days, we bundled up and toured the city together, visiting the Art Institute, Shedd Aquarium (I was appalled and transfixed by a ten-foot alligator), and the Joffrey Ballet, where we took in an afternoon performance of La Fille Mal Gardee and where Dr. Wycomb, I observed, fell deeply asleep. At the Prudential building, my stomach dropped as we rode the elevator forty floors—when the building had opened in 1955, its elevators had been the world’s fastest—and on the forty-first-floor public observation deck, I thought how much my father would have enjoyed the view. Even though I wore a hat, scarf and mittens, it was unbearably cold in the wind, and I stayed outside under a minute before retreating. My grandmother and Dr. Wycomb did not venture onto the observation deck at all. In the evenings, we ate heavy dinners prepared and served by Myra: braised veal chops with prunes, or lamb and turnips.
That Sunday, Dr. Wycomb went to the hospital to check on her patients, and after she’d left the apartment, my grandmother and I caught a cab to the Pelham. We climbed the steps to the third floor—the building was five stories, with no elevator—and found in our room a double bed and not much else. Breathing heavily from the stairs, my grandmother threw back the coverlet, mussed the sheets, filled a glass with water from the bathroom sink, and set the glass on the windowsill. Then she stood at the window, which looked onto the gray backside of another building. It was seven degrees that day and so overcast I was tempted to lie on the bed and take a nap. “I’m being a little silly, aren’t I?” my grandmother said.
I shrugged, still unable to bring myself to ask about our duplicitousness.
“It’s not as if your father will ring the management to see if our room looks inhabited,” my grandmother said. This was true—due to the expense, my father avoided making long-distance calls. The rare times when he did make them, he shouted uncharacteristically, as if raising the volume of his voice would enable a second cousin in Iowa to hear him better.
“Did Dr. Wycomb ever have a husband?” I asked.
“Gladys is a suffragette. She always says she couldn’t have been a doctor if she’d married and had children, and I’m sure she’s right. Shall we go warm up with some tea?”
A block away, we found a cafe, mostly empty, where we were seated at a small table. My grandmother scanned the menu. “Have you ever had an eclair?” When I shook my head, she said, “We’ll split one. They’re bad for your figure but quite delicious.”
“Is Dr. Wycomb friends with Negroes?”
“Who told you that?” My grandmother scrutinized me.
It seemed unfair to pinpoint my mother. “I just was wondering, since a lot of them live in Chicago,” I said. I had at that time only the slightest awareness of the protests and sit-ins occurring in other parts of the country; my main reminder of race came from Dena, who was not allowed by her father to listen to records by black musicians and therefore liked for me to play Chubby Checker or the Marvelettes when she came over.
“Dr. Wycomb supports desegregation, as do I, as should you,” my grandmothe said. “That just means they can eat and live and to to school where we do. But if you’re talking about socializing, Gladys spends more time with Jews than Negroes. Jews often become doctors, you know.” My grandmother still was looking at me closely and apropos of nothing, it seemed, she said, “You don’t have a beau, do you?”
“No,” I said, but I could feel my face heating. A month before, just after Thanksgiving, Dena and I had spent a Saturday night sledding on Bony Ridge with two senior boys, Larry Nagel and Robert Beike. Robert was the one who’d invited Dena, and Dena had brought me. In the inside pocket of his down coat, Larry had tucked a flask of bourbon that we passed around. More than once I’d sipped my grandmother’s old-fashioneds—she’d sometimes give me the marachino cherry—but this was the first time I’d tasted alcohol away from home. And though I felt a wave of guilt, I knew I couldn’t refuse the bourbon without seeming to the boys and Dena like what I was: a goody-goody. So I had drunk from the flask each of the four times it came to me, and though it didn’t taste good, it made me warm and relaxed. Prior to meeting up with Larry and Robert, I’d been jittery, but I began to feel calm and amused. At one point, at the bottom of the hill, Dena and I scurried to a grove of trees, pulled down our snow pants, and urinated into the snow, giggly and unself-conscious. “Write your name in yellow,” Larry called to us. At the end of the night, the boys walked us back to our houses, and from across the street, I could see Dena and Robert on her porch, kissing deeply. For several minutes, Larry stood a few feet away from me—at one point, under his breath, he said, “If they don’t watch out, their tongues will freeze”—but after Robert and Dena pulled apart and Robert called in a shouting whisper, “We’ve gotta go, Nagel,” Larry zoomed toward me without warning, his mouth on mine, his lips cold but his tongue warm. The entire kiss lasted about eight seconds and involved much head and neck movement, as if Larry were participating in a pie-eating contest, but instead of a pie, there was my face. Then he was off our stoop, headed up Amity Lane with Robert, and as soon as they were sufficiently far away, Dena and I met in the middle of the street, clutching each other, trying not to scream. “You two were making out,” she hissed. Until Larry had kissed me, I had not necessarily thought I wanted him to, but after he had, I was glad. In the four weeks since then, Robert and Dena had gone on actual dates, but Larry and I had only passed in the halls at school, acknowledging each other vaguely.
In the cafe, my grandmother said, “You should have a beau. When I last went to see Dr. Ziemniak, he showed me a picture of Roy, who seems to be growing into a handsome fellow.” Dr. Ziemniak was our dentist.
“Roy Ziemniak is short,” I said.
“Aren’t we picky? Eugene Schwab, then.” The Schwabs lived two doors down from us.
“Eugene goes out with Rita Sanocki.”
“Not Irma and Morris’s daughter?”
“I’ve always thought she has a piggy face.”
“You called Roy Ziemniak short, my dear. And I don’t mean to be cruel about Rita, but you must knowwhat I’m referring to. It’s her eyes and nose.” The waitress arrived to take our order, and when she was gone, my grandmother said, “I’d had two marriage proposals by the time I was your age. It’s time for you to start dating.”
(American Wife, Curtis Sittenfeld, pages 30-32, emphasis added, daily excerpt from novel based on the life of Laura Lane Welch Bush)
MarketWatch Futures, December 30, 2018, 6:30pm EST
Own your tomorrow
(Australia Stock Exchange, December 30, 2018, 6:30pm EST)
… life’s twists and turns.
THRIVENT MUTUAL FUNDS
Vigil Sunday night to remember 4 victims of St. Charles homicide
MSN, December 30, 2018, 6:30pm EST
December 30, 2018 1pm EST
About Me. I am feeling that feeling I feel when I feel that, I did something or said something that was misunderstood by someone I would not want to offend.
I’m thinking about Security Officer Bailey (YWCA Brooklyn). I think she misunderstood what I wrote. I think she thinks I was criticizing her when in fact I was commending her. The day I went to security desk, somewhat in a panic, because the toilet kept overflowing, but not all the way on the floor though I could not be certain that it wouldn’t overflow on the floor. I asked Security Officer Bailey if a maintenance person could give me a plunger and she told me the maintenance person was tending to more pressing matters and would come to the 11th floor when time permitted. What she told me helped me put the situation in the proper perspective, but when I wrote about it, if she read what I wrote or if someone told her what I wrote, she probably thinks I was implying that she ignored an emergency situation.
That is not what I meant when I wrote about that. What I wrote about Security Officer Bailey was a compliment, not a criticism. I need to write about this so I can stop thinking about it every time I see her (which won’t be many more times, after I appear in court), me thinking to myself that I offended her.
The other incident happened when I was on my way back here last Friday, December 28, 2018, when I went to Proctor University (WordPress training) at 211 East 43rd Street. As I walked past Parlor Hair Salon, on Atlantic Avenue next door to Nunu Chocolates, I noticed two men sitting inside, in the front of one of the two windows. They two sat facing the inside of the salon, their backs toward the sidewalk.
When I saw the company name on the back of one of their t-shirts, Beacon Electric Company, I tried to take a picture, but was not able to because my cell phone had turned off (all by itself as it does here lately when I’m walking on Atlantic Avenue toward Third Avenue or when I turn from Pacific Street onto Third Avenue, even though there’s sometimes as much as 30% battery charged left on phone—like “magic”, when I enter my room the phone no longer shuts off!)
I turned my cell phone back on and I stood in front of Parlor Hair Salon and waited and when the cell phone came back to the home screen or whatever it’s called quickly I took two pictures and then I entered Parlor Hair Salon and explained to the man whose t-shirt I’d taken a picture of that, I took a picture of his t-shirt, but I will delete the picture if I did so without his permission and he told me it was okay, that I took the picture, and I think I might have mentioned to them both that I’m campaigning for our next president, Caroline Kennedy, 2020. What I failed to do was also acknowledge to the manager or owner and employees, that I’m campaigning for our next president, Caroline Kennedy.
In other words, it seems as though I just waltzed into Parlor Hair Salon, ignored the proprietor or manager and employees, spoke with one of their customers, one of two men who were probably waiting for their wives or girlfriends who were probably having their hair done, me seemingly ignoring everyone else even though I’ve posted pictures of Parlor window and their sidewalk placard. (Asian “Rosie the Riveter”.)
That is not the case. It was not a snub. I was not trying to ignore anyone, I wasn’t thinking. Because my cell phone was malfunctioning and the Beacon Electrical Company signage t-shirt and the Transformer explosion lights up New York sky in shades of blue, I couldn’t think of much else; I forgot my manners.
I cannot post a picture of Beacon Electrical Company t-shirt in Parlor Hair Salon window, because, Mormon computer gremlins deleted the picture from my camera.
MSN News, December 28, 2018. That extraordinary event, the transformer explosion lights, happened last Friday, December 28, 2018.
I did not realize, until this morning, that, Terry’s surname is Proctor. He is the proprietor of Proctor University WordPress training.
When I contacted Terry requesting a two-hour one-on-one training session (I purchased a new domain, AnneFranklySpeaking.info and a new website), we corresponded via email; Terry gave me his new address, 211 East 43rd Street. When I noticed that the floor was not included, rather than send another email or telephone, I decided to just ask at the security desk.
Why did I forget to charge my cell phone? I don’t know. Why did I go to 211 East 42nd Street, Artisan Florists, me thinking Terry’s office was on 42nd street, forgetting that his office is on 43rd Street? I do not know. (Just a few minutes ago, December 30, 2018, 2:30pm, I went on the internet, to make sure I read the sign correctly, when I stood there in the rain staring at the street number 211. I did not. The name of the florist is Alisan Florist, not Artisan Florist.)
Terry Proctor at 211 East 43rd Street, is a black male. Rocky Sellers at extension 211 here at YWCA Brooklyn, is also a black male.
After I stood staring at 211 East 42nd Street signage for a few seconds, feeling somewhat disoriented, finally I remembered, 211 East 43rd Street, not 211 East 42nd Street. At the security desk I asked what floor is Proctor University. The security officer told me there is no Proctor University company in the building. No Proctor University? Again I felt slightly disoriented. I explained to the security officer that my cell phone needed to be charged, and I asked him if he could call the phone number to find out why he did not have the name of the company—I am so glad I had the common sense to write down, with the address, Terry’s phone number. The security officer telephoned Terry’s number. The security officer told me the office is on the seventh floor. He handed me a screen to sign, fingerprint signature like the fingerprint signature screen that customers sign when paying by credit or debit card, and while I was signing my name—SUPRISE!—a picture of me appeared on the screen, and at that very moment, an Asian female was also signing in and her picture appeared on the other screen, at precisely the same time my picture appeared on the screen the security officer handed to me, to sign in!
A white female entered an elevator, I entered after her. I pressed the number 7; the light did not come on but the light to her floor, 23, was on. I unboarded the elevator. I took another elevator to the 7th floor. Terry, wearing a military camouflage shirt, was in the elevator vestibule. He told me his office is actually on the 6th floor, and he opened the stairwell door for us to walk downstairs to the 6th floor. Feeling somewhat disoriented, I walked though the staircase door, then I said to Terry, “I’m not walking down the stairs, I’m riding an elevator.” We rode the elevator to the 6th floor instead of walking down the stairs. But why did the security officer send me to the 7th floor instead of directly to the 6th floor? Why is Terry’s office listed on the 7th floor, instead of the 6th floor? I did not think to ask, I just really wanted to concentrate on getting my new website formatted and online. I now think I know why.
7, 6. Seventeen seventy six.
AHA! Chevrolet’s New Silent Anglo Aryan American Revolution.
6, 7. Sixty Seven Wall Street BMW showroom was but is no longer across the street from JPMorgan headquarters, 60 Wall Street, which is now Deutsche Bank. (My husband had an office in 67 Wall Street building; during some of that time Tate George shared office space with Nat.)
AHA! Brave Mormon 1984 World!
THURSDAY, DECEMBER 27TH
(flyer, elevator vestibule wall, YWCA Brooklyn, December 28, 2018)
Evidently Terry has two offices, one on the 6th floor, one on the 7th floor.
I have another two-hour training session scheduled for tomorrow morning, December 31, 2018.
I hope Terry does not cancel my appointment because of this that I post for my protection, and his. (Mormon Danites could easily orchestrate another such scenario, Terry meeting a client on the 7th floor, then entering the staircase to walk to the 6th floor, and the client pulls out a knife or gun and stabs or shoots Terry, or somehow manages to fling Terry down the stairs.)
Grand Staircase-Escalante, Utah, URL ?
This looks like Capitol Hill Visitors’ Center stairs, but I do not remember seeing any holes that look like bullet holes.
MSN News, December 5, 2018
11th floor elevator vestibule, YWCA Brooklyn, August 21, 2018. (I did not place this book on the window ledge, nor to I know who was told to)
A fireside Q&A for senior decision-makers
(JPMorgan Global stairs, URL ?)
Alisan Florist, (it is illegal for Mormon computer gremlins to again change Florist to Florida) 211 East 42nd Street
Alisan Florist, (it is illegal for Mormon computer gremlins to again change Florist to Florida) 211 East 42nd Street
211 East 43rd Street, Terry’s office is in this building; photo; December 28, 2018
Cambrinus Beer Shop, Atlantic Avenue between Third Avenue and Fourth Avenue (Beauty Road), Brooklyn, August 5, 2017
[Angry Orchards (near God’s visible organization’s headquarters, upstate New York), oak leaves; cc CIA Angry Bird Dallin Oaks and all Danite Angry Birds!] Pedestrian walked by while Martha Kamber planted flowers in large pot in front of YWCA main entrance, August 7, 2018 (my grandson Wesley’s birth date), or maybe the day was August 8th, I cannot remember:
I cannot remember if I took this picture before or after I took the picture of the male with the snake tattoo on his arm. He gave me permission to take a picture. Martha Kamber did not give me permission to this this picture. (The other woman is a resident on the 8th floor, the lounge floor, the 80 times floor. The first time I met her I was working on my computer on the lounge floor because I could not connect to the internet in my room [one year before the 80 times happened]. She came over to where I was sitting, she sniffing around, asking me something or other about the bible, exactly what, I cannot remember (What does she know about my love for God’s Word the Holy Bible? I wondered), and she did so, not in a genuinely friendly manner as one lover of God’s Word the Holy Bible would to another, but rather, with quite a cold air of superiority, authority. One day shortly after I took this picture, elf shopping bag in hand, she knocked me down in the street [I had taken a picture of ClawDaddy and Planet Brooklyn; she was in the picture]; fortunately for me though, the bus that was waiting to turn, had not yet turned, so, she did not throw me under the bus, but she probably would have, if she could have.) Why is Martha Kamber, rather than someone from maintenance, planting the flowers?? (I have no complaint against Martha Kamber.)
These pots appeared, quite coincidentally, a few days after I posted Isaiah 29:15-16:
Potted trees, now in front of Stop & Shop Atlantic Terminal Mall, Brooklyn, as of August, a few days after I posted the following:
15 Woe to those who are going very deep in concealing counsel from Jehovah himself,+ and whose deeds have occurred in a dark place,+ while they say: “Who is seeing us, and who is knowing of us?”+
16 The perversity of YOU men! Should the potter* himself be accounted just like the clay?+ For should the thing made say respecting its maker: “He did not make me”?+ And does the very thing formed actually say respecting its former: “He showed no understanding”?+
[black snakeskin handbag] DeseretNews
Mailman spots massive snake wrapped around a mailbox
Red Sox player snaps at reporter
(MSN News, ?)
RN W subway, 4th Avenue at Pacific Street, July 21, 2018
When we day one of our top priorities is the betterment of the communities we operate and thrive in, we mean it.
(Red Cape Hotels, November 29, 2018, URL ?)
cc CIA Danite Russell Nelson, Cardiologist Surgeon, President, Mormon Church of Satan
cc CIA Agent Mayor Warren Wilhelm aka Bill de Blasio
cc all Mormon barristers
Capitol Hill Visitors Center, Washington DC, October 9, 2018
[snake plant (below calendar), URL ?]
MTA D train, July 19, 2016
tiger, psychedelic poster
(Australia Stock Exchange, December 28, 2018)
The Kennedy Center, Washington, DC, August 12, 2018
Port Authority Bus Terminal, August 8, 2018
[snakeskin stilettos] September 23, 2016
red slingbacks trimmed in snake skin, in a basket, 11th floor elevator vestibule, October 30, 2017
The Deadly Snakes Quiz – Watch Your Step
COMFORT IS MY GROOVE
Marlon Wayans, NAKED, East 23rd Street, September 19, 2017
PLAN FOR UNEXPECTED DETOURS
Pacific Street at Third Avenue, June 8, 2018
Paramount Hotel (Hamilton musical store), 46th Street, March 4, 2018
Marriott Marquis de Sade Hotel, Times Square, June 17, 2018
December 2, 2016, URL ?
Snakemen, “Fashion Avenue” (7th Avenue) at 32nd Street, Penn Station, August 2, 2018. Note: on the corner of “Fashion Avenue: at 31st Street: Astoria Bank (now closed), now known as Sterling National Bank.
Starbucks, 23rd Street, May 18, 2017
[Venice, California] Wikipedia
May 18, 2018
Verizon store, Atlantic Terminal Mall, Brooklyn, June 14, 2018
(pottery decorated with dog with “all seeing eye”, bones, spider web, and Tao [path, way, method] symbol. Port Authority Bus Terminal or Union Station Bus Terminal, summer 2018. This woman, and the two men in Parlor Hair Salon and all of these tattooed people and snake handlers, etc., are plaintiffs in a legal case against Berkshire Hathaway, Microsoft, Accenture, American Express, Apple including Beats, Bain, Citi, Disney, Disney, JPMorganChase, Marriott Hotels including the Ritz Carlton and all corporations owned directly and indirectly by the Mormon Church of Satan. cc all Mormon barristers
Little Bit of Bybee Handmade Pottery
Oh, that reminds me. I probably should mention that, Proctor University WordPress moved from Jay Suites, Times Square, to 211 East 43rd Street. Not JayZ Suites, just plain Jay Suites. I know this is a lot of information for one page, but for now one page is all I can post.
ASX, December 30, 2018, 8:30pm EST
BARCLAYS CENTER GEICO VIP ENTRANCE; photo: December 28, 2018, approximately 3pm. Geico, a Berkshire Hathaway, company.
About Me. One of the things I will prove, beyond any doubt, is the fact that CIA Warren Grand Imperial Wizard of Omaha Buffett, is a Mormon Angry Bird, and a whole lot of other startling revelations. Jehovah God commands of me that I do so but how can I, if I’m homeless??
|Founded||1932Syracuse, Utah, United Statesin|
|Founder||Rufus Call Willey|
|Western United States|
|William H. Child (Chairman)
Scott Hymas (CEO)
Jeff Child (President)
Curtis Child (CFO)
THIS IS AN IMPORTANT MESSAGE FROM ME:
NO MORMON MOMENT, MAGIC OF MACY*S, ALADDIN, HARRY POTTER …
NO MAGIC/SORCERY/SATANISM 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; and,
Robert Mueller will be nominated and confirmed Director of the FBI.
No power on earth has the power to prevent the above 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 the Mormon Church of Satan: FBI agent “Ahmad” Corbitt (recently returned from assignment in 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] Vivid Seats
[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!
Concluding talk, Jehovah’s Witnesses Convention 2015, worldwide