On this October 3, 2017, this news: “Donna Brazile, a longtime Clinton ally who stepped in as DNC chair last year in the wake of Debbie Wasserman Schultz’s resignation, published an excerpt of her upcoming book in Politico in which she disclosed the details of a fundraising agreement between the DNC and the Clinton campaign reached in August 2015.” Wow! With an improving economy and the Democratic Party in a tailspin, I’m feeling optimistic.
Then there is the fact that 35,000 people from all over the world have signed up for mymicraclemessage.com. Although I’ve written two books that didn’t sell, I’m encouraged to write a third book. It is hard to connect the dots. We are kept in the dark. But since my two prior publications, people are seriously questioning America’s well-entrenched establishment, better known as “Deep Government.”
Then there is this: A child of the new age, arriving at 4:51 p.m.c.s.t. in Houston, Texas, on September 17, 1925, in the month and year that physics student Werner Heisenberg published his uncertainty principle, which became quantum mechanics. By all means, 1925 was a banner year for physics; and, incidentally, applicable to my future.
Everything is in divine order. Get ready for the coming quantum leap in time, the end of the Stone Age, your future is almost here. Don’t be confused by the old world order, the one being sold by the establishment. With my birth, opposing man’s freaked-out mask, came the atom bomb. Heisenberg, Hitler’s atom bomb builder, lucky for me, ended with nothing, his plant on the ground due to an allied air raid.
I was a combat rifleman in Nazi Germany in World War II. After Germany’s unconditional surrender, my 97th Infantry Division was sent to help finish the war in the Pacific. I was on a troop ship heading for the invasion of Japan’s main island when the United States dropped two atom bombs on Japan. Lucky me and the fate of thousands of other young American men. Instead of a beach landing, my troop ship docked in Yokohama. This was just one of many lucky breaks in my life. I spent eight months in the Army of Occupation in Japan. I was honorably discharged, and remarkably, before my twenty-first birthday.
Federal income tax is the biggest con in history. Nobody knows the real purpose. It is not in the news, so let me advise you. I’m a voice of experience. This child of the new age has lived an eventful, diversified life. I recall sitting on my tricycle at age five at the corner of MacFarlin and Preston Road in Dallas, Texas. I was not to cross Preston Road, a busy thoroughfare. The light turned green and I peddled across. The cops found me hours later chatting with a yard man. I guess you could call me a maverick, a rebel without a cause in my youth.
My parents told me I asked too many questions. Out of business and my second wife divorcing me, everyone viewing me as a nutcake, why, I asked myself. I went to an employment councilor. A vocational guidance test found me to be high in adventure. Along with the fact that I’d been self-employed most of my life, my councilor agreed with my thought of buying a boat and sailing the South Atlantic Ocean for a couple of years. My family thought it was crazy and irresponsible. Going to sea was my idea of an ideal place to look within for answers–no distractions, just me and nature.
During my time at sea, miracles occurred. I left my life at sea convinced that God’s hand had been on my wheel, but why would anyone else be convinced? People don’t connect the dots. My experiences at sea could not be proven. No, but when you take it all into consideration it is hard to say it was coincidence that my life was altogether better after my time at sea.
Critics of my first two books did not connect the dots. They did not allow for the inexplicable. They knew it all.
During my two year sabbatical at sea, I married my third wife. Two years after I returned to conventional life, and a job in Portland, Oregon, I came home from work and found movers in my condo packing dishes. They were hired by my third wife, they said, to move everything out. I went to a closet and grabbed my shotgun. The movers left without an argument. What was it with my wives? Why did I pick them? There was a lot I didn’t know.
Another miracle. Two weeks after wife number three departed, wife number four appeared—by coincidence? I don’t think so. The moment we met I knew she had been sent to me. I had the feeling I’d known her before, somewhere or at some time. After 37 years with the one and only love of my life, I remain with that feeling. Who else would know? God’s hand is on my wheel, but people don’t connect the dots.
It is an amazing thing: I departed my old life on Good Friday, on the day Christians commemerate the crusifixion of Christ. Do the dots connect? I think so.
From a numerology report, I learned that in my forties a significant change would take place in my life, such as the loss of a job. At age 49, I was out of a job and my wife was divorcing me. My life significantly changed. As I look back, I got on my path of destiny, but who would believe that? People don’t connect the dots.
In July 1975, I happened onto an astrologer. I hired him to create my astrological chart. I didn’t think much of it at the time, but he did tell me the stars were right for me on the date of my divorce trial. He did tell me that on April 2nd or 3rd of 1976 that the stars were in bad alignment for my love life—do not attach to a woman on these dates, he warned. I met my third wife on April 2nd. So what!
So I departed my old life back at square one, so-to-speak, to be born again, I was age forty-nine, matching numerology and the alignment of the stars, but at odds with Christianity. I was in tune with Jesus. In Luke 21:25, Jesus, speaking of his second coming, referred to signs in the sun, moon and stars. People don’t connect the dots.
I took the first step in my thousand mile journey, a couple of years prior to my departure from my old life, I wrote a letter to Attorney General William B. Saxbe, informing him that federal income tax was unconstitutional. Who else would do a thing like that? Who am I to be telling the chief law enforcement officer of the United States what the law says? Why wasn’t my letter tossed in the round file? Saxbe forwarded my letter to my local Director of Internal Revenue. Stop right there! The Director of Internal Revenue doesn’t legislate, he enforces the law.
The law does not allow the Internal Revenue Service to intimidate taxpayers. I had read law professor Edward S. Corwin’s The “Higher Law” Background of American Constitutional law. This former rebel without a cause had a cause. At any rate, my Director of Internal Revenue sent an auditor to my home, a part-time employee, he was, attending North Texas University. He could have been the good humor icecream man. This investigator, selected by a tax collecting director, entered my home. What did this North Texas University student know? Why should we trust such examiners? The Director of Internal Revenue disrespected to my right to privacy. So what else is new? What do we do about it?
We’ve got a problem, folks. I have every right to question U.S. tax authorities–but only if I demand the right. In violation of my Fourth Amendment rights, this North Texas University student spent five days in my home examining my personal records and taking notes. This boy tax collecting examiner, in my home on a tax collecting fishing expedition, can anyone with good sense call this serving the public interest? What would it have been if I was other than an out of sight bottom fish? Would the Director have sent this boy wonder to examine a big name person’s personal papers? I don’t think so. It is the law of the jungle, folks. By the way, speaking of Donna Brazile and what she revealed, where is Attorney General Sessions? The biggest government scandal ever in the United States and those lying frauds are still in control. Nobody can do a thing to stop it. American freedom hangs by a thread. Well, don’t you think it is time to start connecting the dots?
After 11 years of effort, I found a reporter who sought out the facts of the matter. On the front page of The Palm Beach Post, a spokesman for my Director apologized for the multiple mistakes he made. My case had been in every federal court in the land, save the Court of Claims. America’s courts are no better than Nazi Germany’s courts. It is tax now. It will soon be American lives.
But getting back to this tax collecting boy in my home, sent by Uncle Sam to investigate me, armed with a pocket calculator and determined to make his time productive, he determined that I failed to report $5,000 of taxable income and I owed the full capital gains tax on land that I sold–this without explanation. I received a phone call. The director wanted to discuss the tax I owed. Said this maverick, “I’ll see you in court” and hung up. Is it not odd that the Director didn’t follow up? I didn’t hear back. That was the end of it. What do you make of it? Time to start connecting the dots, right? That Director was the Wizard of Oz.
But hey! The implications are great. If taxpayers didn’t fear the IRS, perhaps the holier than thou United States would not have the money and power to bully the world. Who needs enemies with friends like these? That does this say about that bad little boy in North Korea? What does this say about Bible thumping Christians? What does this say about Hillary Clinton and the Democratic Party? The United States has never been more divided. People refuse to connect the dots.
I had departed for Miami, Florida, arriving on Easter Sunday for the first day of my new life. I’d left in a 10 year-old car, leaving a new car for my wife. I’d taken with me some personal things and $500 in cash. My home, my barn, my tractor, my livestock, my land, my bank account–all but 10 acres of unimproved land was to go to my second wife. Everything I’d worked for all of my adult life, and I was willing to walk away from it. Why? My wife of ten years was to have custody of our child. Why fight it? She married me for what she could get out of it. So be it. It was the same story with my first wife. It was my fault. I didn’t know love. I came from a disfunctional family.
It was understood between us that my wife would pay the income tax we owed. I’d left the tax return, made out and signed. I could have taken the bank account. There was nothing to stop me, and paid the tax myself. I’m prone to be taken.
I’d sold the stock I owned before we married. It was mutually agreed that it was mine. My wife was to have mailed the check to me in Miami. I never received it, leaving me unable to pay my rent or even buy food. Due to my wife’s betrayal, I went hungry. There again, I’m prone to be taken. Why? It is a misplaced sense of guilt. The best way to gain control is to make others feel guilty. My father, an alcoholic, with an inner sense of guilt, used me as his whipping boy. I carried my fathers burden of shame. I did not connect the dots. Wife number two was a second mistake that cost me dearly.
I’d given my wife my Miami address. Instead of my check, I received notice from the Director that I owed the full tax, plus penalty and interest, the tax I left for my wife to handle. My wife had made out a separate return (I found out on my own) upon the advice of the Director. She paid half of the tax we owed. Imagine that, the government taking sides in a divorce, and against a veteran of World War II down on his luck. Yes, and all because I carried my father’s burden of shame. By the way, my father was one of General Pershing’s one hundred heroes in World War I. What was his problem?
The Director billed me with the full tax, plus penalty and interest. Nobody knew this. The press doesn’t report these happenings. The press only reports what the Director says. I’m called an illegal tax protester. Judges called me a spurious constitutional objector. It will not be long until they are putting people like me in concentration camps.
I waited four years to be heard in Tax Court. In the meanwhile, the Director was authorized to do anything he wanted, including putting me on the street, which he did. I was locked out of my apartment for nonpayment of rent. My landlord didn’t bother to follow the steps of eviction. I was on the street for an hour. The police handed me the new key to my apartment. By the way, the 21 percent withholding tax deducted from on my meager pay went to a mile long line of snowbirds from the north for food stamps. Is this what you call fair redistribution? No, it is because I’m not the only American prone to be taken. Time that the American people start connecting the dots.
What about the law and income tax? We are guilty until proven innocent in courts that look the other way on taxpayer rights. There you have it, exactly what I’ve been bringing to your attention. It is exactly this that allows the United States to be the biggest bully in the world. It is the do-gooders, those suckers prone to be taken. Yet with all of the above in consideration, on Christmas Eve 1975 I set sail on the South Atlantic Ocean, just as planned.
Following Texas law, my divorce court judge ruled that I owned the land before we were married and therefore all the improvements. The court gave my wife our furniture, a car, and 30 days to remove herself from my property. Merry Christmas! There was a day of reckoning. There is always a day of reckoning.
My five year old son was left without a home. In spite of what my second wife did, on my own, I offered to go back to the original property settlement agreement. My ex-wife was to mortgage the property and pay me the going market price on my 10 acres of undeveloped land. That way, I could get on with my plans. I left my son his home. I’m guided by the “Higher Law.” I did what I felt was right and sailed away to a new life.
During my two year sabbatical at sea, I saved seven lives from a watery grave, including my own. What do you make of it? What about the eternal mask astrologer Jeanne Avery wrote about in her book? Do we know our reality? We are inescapably part of universal consciousisness–eternal. What we do in this life remains with us forever, individually and universally.
An innocent child was left to pay for the immorality of his mother. A longstanding burden of misplaced shame and guilt that plagued me, on my own, was replaced with an act of goodness and generosity. Is it we the people, or is it to be Deep Government? Does my introduction to a new book connect the dots? I look forward to your comments.