FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
1
RONAN IBAR WYLEY’S
[THE] FILE–R.I.P./EDITED [TRILOGY]
INMEMORA/THE BOOK OF GOD
{A SEVENTEEN-YEAR DEMONIC JOKER/POSTMESCIC HELL’S OWN/ED
STEREOTYPE HISTORY LESSON IN THREE-BOOKS}
BOOK-TWO [OF-THREE-BOOKS]:
[GOVERNMENT WARNING!!! BOOK TWO: COVERS
AUGUST-1964 TO AUGUST-1974 INCLUSIVE/R.I.P.]
TOP SECRET
TOP SECRET: PHOENIX L11 (GOD’S-DIARY)
BY UNITED/WORLD/COVERT/GOVERNMENT ORDER
AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL OF GOD’S-DIARY; EYES ONLY
ALL YOUR RIGHTS AS RECORDED/
DOCUMENTED OFFICIAL US/WORLD/LIFE-CITIZENS
ARE GIVEN UP, ONCE THIS FILE-R.I.P. BREACHED/OPENED/READ/OR ANY
PART TRANSMITTED
TO ANY OTHER UNAUTHORISED PARTY/ONCE BEYOND THIS POINT!
BREACH OF R.I.P.-PROTOCOL/THE-TRIAL OF NO-TRIAL/
TWENTY-FIVE YEARS TO WORLD/LIFE IMPRISONMENT/OR/AND
DURING WHICH TIME/
WORLD/LIFE DEATH SENTENCE MAY BE IMPOSED!!!
WE GET TO LIVE WITH OUR MISTAKES!!! YOU DON’T!!!
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
2
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
3
RONAN IBAR WYLEY’S
[THE] FILE–R.I.P./EDITED [TRILOGY]
INMEMORA/THE BOOK OF GOD
{A SEVENTEEN-YEAR DEMONIC JOKER/POSTMESCIC HELL’S OWN/ED
STEREOTYPE HISTORY LESSON IN THREE-BOOKS}
BOOK-TWO [OF-THREE-BOOKS]:
…………
AS THIS FILE–R.I.P./EDITED OLD-RO-WORLD/LIFE
AND MOST ANCIENT-HORROR-MACHINE
JOLTS SO FINELY INTO GEAR, AND THEN RUNS SO SMOOTHLY
AND SO RITE/LY-ALONG
THE TOO-SAME-TRUTH WILL BE TOLD IN-FULL, TIME-AND-TIME AGAIN
BUT NEVER ONCE
WILL THE WAYWARD-RO-CULTURE-WORLD/LIFE
EVEN BE SLIGHTLY SELF-PERSUADED AGAINST
FOLLOWING THE PRE-SET COURSE, OF IT’S MERE GHOSTLY
BUT SO SLYLY SUGGESTIVE AND SO VERY WICKED-WAYS!
…………
Ronan Ibar Wyley/Killian Styles Thomas Schull,
FILE–R.I.P./EDITED Publishers,
Subsidiary Of Black Project Communication Systems.
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
4
Ronan Ibar Wyley/Killian Styles Thomas Schull,
FILE–R.I.P./EDITED Publishers,
Subsidiary Of Black Project Communication Systems.
Published by Ronan Ibar Wyley/Killian Styles Thomas Schull,
FILE–R.I.P./EDITED Publishers,
Subsidiary Of Black Project Communication Systems, 2014
Copyright © Ronan Ibar Wyley 2014
File-R.I.P./Edited, Inmemora, The Book Of God,
Book 2, Parts 1 to 3 First Published In One Volume 2014
™ © 2014, The Estate Of
Ronan Ibar Wyley
“THE ARCHITECTURAL/BLUEPRINT PLAN!!!
IN
“THE MECHANICAL DRAWING CLASS!!!”
THE TITLE OF THIS SELF-PORTRAIT ART-PEACE;
THAT IS THE-INDEPENDENT AND SO-VERY-UNIQUECONSCIOUS-LIFE-FORCE-SPIRIT-/-MIND-/
-SELF-FILTERED-TRANSFERENCE…
(Of The Old Human World/Life-Belief-System/tothe/-New And Intended Human World/Life Belief
System… Through The Linking-Cornerstone Medium…
A Self-Portrait; By… Ronan Ibar Wyley…
In The Mechanical Drawing Class,
In The World/Life Year Of 1990,
CM;2-World/Life-History-Puzzle-Busting-Master.)
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval
system, or transmitted, by any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying,
recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be
lent, re-sold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any
form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition
including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
5
FILE–R.I.P./EDITED; In-Three-Books
ALL BLACK-POSTMESCIC-ARTS-ILLUSIONS
SO-SUDDENLY-ENSNARED WITH-IN/
THE INMEMORA-MASTER-WATCH’S
TURNING-CLOCKWORK INNARDS, AND ELABORATE DIALS AND COILS,
HERE-NOW, LAID SO-TRUE AND UGLY-AND-BARE, RITE-HERE, FOR YOU…
COMPLETE: INDEX
[BOOK TWO/(parts ‘1’ through-to ‘3’)]
Information Compiled: George Ira Robinson (R-E-T-I-R-E-D)
Editor-In-Chief:
Rick
Derek
Styles
(R-E-T-I-R-E-D
Present
Phoenix: Forever Commander-In-Chief)
FINAL-EDITOR OF COMPILED-INFORMATION; CODE NAME: Code-Breaker,
Lone Surviving Toy Train Maker (Toy Train Maker: NonPresent/Still-Here-To-Hear,
Yet
Not-Still-Here-ToHear/Commander-In-Chief
Of
The
RO-Ghost-Machine:
Last
Of
Authorized Personnel With Authority To Go Beyond This Point [Of
Own/ed Compiled FILE–R.I.P./EDITED])
INDEX (By Code-Breaker, Lone Surviving Toy Train Maker):
…………
INDEX
[BOOK TWO/(parts ‘1’ through-to ‘3’)]
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
6
BOOK TWO/(parts ‘1’ through-to ‘3’)
CEASELESSLY DRIVEN-ON, IN IT’S FINAL-ADVANCE
ON THE EARTHLY-WORLD/LIFE
AND TOWARDS IT’S SELF-PREDETERMINED-END
AND LONG-FOREGONE, AND LONG-FORESEEN CONCLUSION:
DOES DUALLY CONSIST OF;
COMPONENTS OF UNDER/TAKER’S-GAME
LONG SINCE JOLTED INTO FULL SWING AND CONSTANT-MOTION;
WHERE ALL STILL-HERE, TO-HEAR IN FILE–R.I.P./EDITED-BOOK TWO;
JUST-MERELY PARODY AND POORLY MIMIC ALL LONG-GONE-/-BEFORE IN
FILE–R.I.P./EDITED-BOOK ONE,
AND USE ALL-KNOWN EXTRAVAGANCE AND RAZZLE-DAZZLE
TO COMPENSATE-FOR, AND TO-CAMOUFLAGE, ALL-, -ALL SHORT-COMINGS
OF WHAT SHOULD HAVE BEEN LONG SINCE UNDERSTOOD BACK-IN
BOOK ONE;
AS IF BOOK ONE HAS JUST CAST IT’S ALL-DISTORTING-REFLECTION
INTO A BACK-STAGE JOKE HOUSE’S ENLARGING/MISSHAPING MIRROR
LABELLED,
BOOK TWO!
…………
……
COMPLETE: INDEX
[BOOK TWO/(parts ‘1’ through-to ‘3’)]
PART ‘1’ Of [3-PARTS]: BOOK TWO
CONSTITUTES;
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
7
CHAPTER-1 through-to THE-FINAL-CHAPTER IN PART-ONE, CHAPTER-22!
PAGE:
13
‘The Architects Of The Future’
[Until All Time, Be Too Damn-Late For-Return,
Or Any-Hope Of Near-Eternal Rewind,
Till Ultimate Bust-Due, Finally Paid-Out, And Paid-Out In-Full!]
TOP SECRET;
STRICTLY NO UNAUTHORISED VIEWING
[Of] INTERNED CONTENTS
[OSEB] [OWN (OWN-YOU) OWN/ED SPIRITUAL SELF-EXECUTIONER’S
BLADE!!!!]
FILE–R.I.P./EDITED;
ROGER
[STILL] IN [HIS] PURGATORY!
(STILL-IN-CONSTRUCTION)
(COUNTER/MADE-TO/MEASURE;NO.1/Through-To/No.3/
DEFINED INTO [TREACHEROUS] EXISTENCE HERE)
AND CODENAME; ONE-EYED-ROBINSON [ALREADY/BLOOD/RED]
DIAMOND-JACK/ED-BLADE!
…………
……
PART ‘2’ Of [3-PARTS]: BOOK TWO
CONSTITUTES;
CHAPTER-1 through-to THE-FINAL-CHAPTER IN PART-TWO, CHAPTER-28!
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
PAGE:
8
539
AFTERMATH
FOR THOSE WHO HAVE DARED TO-RAISE THE-COURAGE
TO-HOLD THEIR EARTHLY-WORLD/LIFE-GROUND
AS EARTH-BOUND AND STILL-SUFFERING MORTAL’S…
THE MAY-8TH-1975-FINAL-WORLD/LIFE-HOUR-DEAL-/
HOUR-OF-GREATEST-NEED-/-MILE-STONE-GRAVE-MARKER,
FOR THE ONE AND TRULY FINAL UNIVERSAL-JUDGMENT-DAY
REQUIRED TO-SELF-JUDGE
THAT HUMANS HAVE FINALLY-SELF-JUDGED
THAT HE AND SHE HAVE FINALLY HAD ENOUGH OF IT-ALL…
AND HUMANITY WISH TO STAKE A CLAIM-AT RECLAIMING THE TRUE-SELF
BACK FROM WILD AND RANDOMLY THRIVING/
DCC-MADE-WITH-UE-ILL-TEACHING
POSTMESCIC-DIRECTED WORLD/LIFE EVENT/CIRCUMSTANCE…
…………
……
PART ‘3’ Of [3-PARTS]: BOOK TWO
CONSTITUTES;
CHAPTER-1 through-to THE-FINAL-CHAPTER IN PART-THREE,
CHAPTER-87!
PAGE:
999
MOST GRAND, GRAND SALESMEN/WORLD/LIFE-PLAGIARISERS/
DEMONIC JOKERS/POSTMESCIC HELL’S OWN/ED STEREOTYPES
THAT STACK THE CARDS/OF THE BACK-STAGE JOKE HOUSE-DECKS OF
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
9
-‘PHOENIX -L11’
[MICROCOSM-WORLD-OF-CM;2-WORLD/LIFE-HISTORY-PUZZLE-BUSTINGUNIVERSAL-WORLD/LIFE-STAGE!!!
O LORDY, LORDY, MUST STOP THIS DARK CM;2-WORLD/LIFE-HISTORYPUZZLE-BUSTING-BUSINESS
AT ANY AND ALL CONSCIOUSLY-SELF-JUSTIFIABLE COSTS…
FOR FEAR WE
AND ALL OUR RELATED WORKS ARE RENDERED TOTALLY OBSOLETE…]
GOD’s DIARY
THROUGH
CM;1;OSEB;NO.X;
[THE THREE DIVINED SONS’ FILE–R.I.P./EDITED BLUEPRINT
FINALLY NOW A FULLY REALIZED PHYSICAL, AND SPIRITUAL DIMENSION
ALL LAID OUT HERE!!!]
[CM;1; COUNTER/MADE-TO/MEASURE NO.1]
[OSEB; OWN/ED SPIRITUAL SELF-EXECUTIONERS BLADE!!!]
[NO.X; HUMAN REASON VICTIM NUMBER]
…………
THE TRUTH, AT ANY AND ALL COSTS PHOENIX/ARIZONA;
WITHIN THE CONSTANTLY ‘NARROWING MARGINS’
MOST GRAND MICROCOSM-WORLD/LIFE-CM;2;-STAGED-ACT-HOUSE OF THE
POSTMESCIC-/-WORLD/LIFE-PLAGIARISER-/-DEMONIC JOKERS-/
-POSTMESCIC HELL’S OWN/ED STEREOTYPES
[BUT THE NARROWING-MARGIN-WALLS BROUGHT-BY THE ILL-WILLED
DRASTICALLY-CHANGING,
POSTMESCIC-DIRECTED WORLDLY/LIFE-EVENT/CIRCUMSTANCE
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
10
CLOSING IN ON, BY-WAY OF SENDING ALL CM;1;OSEB’S
TO THIS DARK-AND SO-UNHOLY-L11-PLACE
IS NO-DEMONIC JOKE-TO BE TAKEN IN LIGHT-HEARTED JEST
BY THE PRIMAL-BODY-OF-UE-MIND!]
…………
FILE–R.I.P./EDITED/INDEX 6/of 9
SALESMEN-WORLD/LIFE-PLAGIARISERS/DEMONIC JOKERS/POSTMESCIC
HELL’S OWN/ED STEREOTYPES-CARD-STACKERS ON POSTMESCIC–
WORLD/LIFE-EVENTS-STAFF…
[AND ALL SALESMEN-WORLD/LIFE-PLAGIARISERS/DEMONIC JOKERS/
POSTMESCIC HELL’S OWN/ED STEREOTYPE-CARD-STACKERS
WHO DON’T REALLY MATTER!]
‘RULES OF ENGAGEMENT (IN/FOR THIS-STILL-HERE MORTAL WORLD/LIFE
RITE)/ R.I.P.’
PROTOCOL R/I/W; (Reduction In Workforce)
[BREACH OF PROTOCOL R/I/W; THE-TRIAL OF DEATH WITH OUT-A-TRIAL]
PROTOCOL R/W; (REWRITABLE FILE–R.I.P./EDITED)
COUNTER/MADE-TO/MEASURE No.1 (executed)
COUNTER/MADE-TO/MEASURE No.3 (executed)
[COUNTER/MEASURE RDS;
OWN/ED SPIRITUAL SELF-EXECUTIONER’S BLADE NO.1./through-to/NO.4
(executed)]
OF THE-THREE-PARTS
that constitute BOOK-TWO;
(22 + 28 + 87) TOTAL-CHAPTERS; 137
AND
THE FINAL PAGE
IN THE FILE-R.I.P./EDITED BOOK-TWO
PAGE:
2266
[COPYRIGHT/2014/THE END]
[R.I.W: 2014:
RONAN IBAR WYLEY]
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
AND THIS OUR SO-CURSED LOWLY LOT
THE SIX GAME-PLAYING PLAYERS
AND REPUTED SIX DIVINED SONS
BUT-YET-IT–IS-AS-IF THERE ALWAYS REALLY IS
BUT-ONLY-ONE, ONLY-TOO-REAL
SEVENTH SELF-MIRRORING
ROGER MADICAN JAMES
GAME-PLAYING
POSTMESCIC-MAN!!!!
11
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
12
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
13
Parts ‘1’ through-to ‘3’/(BOOK TWO)
CEASELESSLY DRIVEN-ON
IN IT‘S FINAL-ADVANCE ON THE EARTHLY-WORLD/LIFE
AND TOWARDS IT’S SELF-PREDETERMINED-END
AND LONG-FOREGONE
AND LONG-FORESEEN CONCLUSION:
BOOK TWO
PART ONE [Of ‘3’-PARTS]
‘THE ARCHITECTS OF THE FUTURE’
[Until All Time, Be Too Damn-Late For-Return
Or Any-Hope Of Near-Eternal Rewind
Till Ultimate Bust-Due, Finally Paid-Out, And Paid-Out In-Full!]
‘TOP SECRET’
STRICTLY NO UNAUTHORISED VIEWING
[Of] INTERNED CONTENTS
[OSEB] [OWN (OWN-YOU) OWN/ED SPIRITUAL SELF-EXECUTIONER’S
BLADE!!!!]
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
14
‘TOP SECRET’
FILE–R.I.P./EDITED;
ROGER
[STILL] IN [HIS] PURGATORY!
(STILL-IN-CONSTRUCTION)
IN THE KILLIAN SCOTT THOMAS SCHULL ESSAY HOMEWORK
ROGER-THE KID
WAS SO OBSESSED WITH THE CONCEPT OF
CM;1, CM;2, CM;3…
ROGER-THE KID
THOUGHT TO DESCRIBE
THE GOLD-COFFIN-SHAPED GENTLEMAN’S PISTOL
ANCHORED TO THE END OF THE POCKET CHAIN
OF ONE OF SCHULL’S ROTTEN-RO-HEART POCKET WATCHES
AS A GOLD-COFFIN
ON WHOSE LID WAS AN ENGRAVING OF A HUMAN SKULL AND CROSSBONES
IN WHOSE DÉCOR WAS HIDDEN
AND YET WAS AN ENGRAVING MADE UP OF THE LETTERS AND NUMBERS
CM;1;, ;2, ;3…
AS SUCH…
(COUNTER/MADE-TO/MEASURE; NO.1/Through-To/No.3/
DEFINED INTO [TREACHEROUS] EXISTENCE HERE)
…………
AND CODENAME; ONE-EYED-ROBINSON
[ALREADY/BLOOD/RED]
DIAMOND-JACK/ED-BLADE;
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
15
DOES DUALLY SAY 28th January 1965
‘Learning how to play the POSTMESCIC MIND GOD’s own/ed
Damnation Game, through IT’s own/ed Damn rules; and figuring out
how to-swivel those most-shabby rules, Rite-On-Around, and
straight-back against IT!’
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
16
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
17
PART-ONE, BOOK TWO CONSTITUTES;
CHAPTER-1 through-to THE-FINAL-CHAPTER IN PART-ONE, CHAPTER-22!
HERE-THEN, IS-CHAPTER…
1-OF-22…
…
(IN 4-PARTS)
PART 1
(OF 4-PARTS)
Robinson dreamed of his father’s beautiful farmland with
the accompanying farmhouse. He woke. He knew mortality had
cheated him. World/life was all about superficial change in a
World/life that was so primitive IT was basically still the dark
ages, and gradual but constant loss. Nothing was permanent or
stayed the same. Both his father Joseph and mother Ira were long
dead and gone. The farmland was long since sold. The money
gleaned from the sale was all spent. Even if he wished to do so
for old World/lifetimes sake, never again would he wake to a
magical Christmas morning and find his presents under the tree.
Then hear his parents waking. Then see his tough but kind father
Joseph’s smiling face, and every time George passed through the
kitchen full of grand smells be able to look over at his
beautiful mother Ira, humming a tune as she cooked the Christmas
turkey in the oven. His mother Ira had ever only hoped her
children enjoyed his or her childhoods. Never again would he
know such a sense of freedom, such comfort and lack of primalUE-mind-inspired fear, where his IG-directed imagination was
free to thrive, and fill him with such wonder as he self-
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
18
contemplated the force of truest love that was his true
conscious-life-force-spirit, when he simply knew pure immortal
spiritual life beyond the mortal grave was a reality, and only
in heaven was there permanency. In reality, if he ever wanted to
see his smiling father Joseph and mother Ira he had to look at
old black and white photographs.
Since August-9TH–1964 Robinson felt mocked anytime he selfcontemplated the old photographs of his family-physically
absent, only a corpse left in a coffin somewhere, and before
long not even that much. Then he had to look around at what this
IT’s made-World/life really was-still so primitive and ignorant
as to be a stone age.
Once, he had hoped he and his son little Richard could in a
sense reenact what he and his parents had once shared together.
Due to Robinson’s Postmescic/Reason-brought cancer, and due to
his bigger responsibilities he knew this would be impossible.
For he was constantly self-plagued by his never-to-be-a-ceasing
sense of great self-debt he owed the w/hole human race-given
what supernatural experiences he’d had regarding the actual
truth of this universe, he was basically one of the very few who
was privy to. He was also one of the very few humans in an
actual position to do something about IT-all. Equally, he knew
no matter what he did to counteract IT in order to better the
human World/life and to liberate the human race out of Dark Age
of ignorance of IT-all, and to try and save the human World/life
from itself/IT-all, little Richard would be wounded. Little
Richard would have to self-suffer in some dire way prior to
father Robinson’s fated time to end in the grave.
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
19
PART 2
(OF 4-PARTS)
Robinson posted out letters to media representatives
concerning what he had determined through study of the work of
Roger Madican James, to be Roger’s side to the story.
Nothing ever came of these letters. No one out there in the
so-called real RO-Culture World/life wanted truth or talent,
which were of course one in the same. Real talent best defined
what was real truth, and talent was the end result of one who
represented all that was good and true and who never gave into
willful self-deception-that ultimately was represented by evil.
The media representatives had been born into a failed
World/life. A failed World/life celebrated failures and the work
of failures alone/lairs then siding with the UE-hate/revenge
drive to upset the intended plan. Thus even as kids these types
of people, who would do anything as constant pleasure seekers
always looking for the easiest answers and solutions while
living in an evil purpose serving World/life, and out to feel
better at any give moment no matter what the price, had been
sent the subliminal message to become failures, and so he or she
had. He and she had wished to be told what to do so he or she
could get on and could thrive within a failed World/life. No
more than Pat Elliot had, he and she had destroyed all rational
conscious thought, all the pure and good and worthwhile stuff in
the human personality such as love and compassion and the desire
for real truth and to build all up into purer and wiser
spiritual beings. Instead, he and she had taken on a killer’s
rage/the UE-hate/revenge-drive as a so-called healthy ambition.
Ranting and raving, spitting and drooling, full of nothing but
mental illness and spite and hate and rage and jealousy and out
to attack and take revenge against imagined/self-perceived
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
20
enemies, who else but an ignorant animal would try to kick and
claw the way to the top in a failed society where he or she
could have influence in regard to the miss-information sent out
to flood that society to ensure that society remained a failure
in a state of constant deconstruction back into increasingly
greater states of evil. Never once did Robinson ever come across
the work of, or find a human being who represented real truth.
There were only different types of pleasure-seeking liars given
a voice, people who would say and do anything just to feel
better at any given moment. The end result was a load of
misinformation
was
flooding
society,
and
each
piece
of
information adding to the unconscious evil conspiracy to ensure
the gradual self-corruption, self-deconstruction of all members
of the failed society. The biggest joke was all such people
imagined he and she had deeply personal self-interests for doing
IT to the rest of the human race, even when the true individual
conscious self of the lair, had to be self-sacrificed to evil if
the job was to be done in the name of serving evil.
IT was not just the case that RO-Culture was so inherently
evil that such people were given so many negative World/life
experiences, UE would get the opportunity to pass primal evil
judgmental information over to the conscious mind, in regard to
bringing to bear upon the conscious mind all so-called known
knowledge of the known mortal World/life. No. Such people, at
some time, had made the willful conscious decision to take the
most selfish and evil and ignorant response in regard to what he
and she thought about in private in reaction to the type of
standard World/life events everyone had to go through.
As such, by the time Robinson’s letters arrived containing
the truth behind the unconscious evil conspiracy to destroy all
conscious life force spirit, such people were so overpowered by
a DCC-made-with-UE constantly self-strengthened over the years,
even when told the truth behind evil, even then such people
ranted and raved in private what sub humans the public were who
as such had to be kept beaten down in ignorance in response to
the UE-hate/revenge drive of a standard design in each and every
unconscious human mind. Though told when UE formed a most major
DCC-made-with-UE, the unconscious message was sent out that UE
wished
one
to
live
one’s
World/life
by
the
brutal/symbolic/actual mortal axe/UE-inspired hate/revenge/drive
to upset the intended plan and to ensure the failed World/life
always remained a failure and never got well or self-healed.
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
21
Also, mortality was all there was and the truth was that a
spiritual dead evil God had created the universe. Also there was
no such thing as pure conscious life force spirits, IG or a
soul. All lies. Yet such people were so warped by evil, even
when told this truth, he and she ranted and raved what a stupid
ignorant childish load of trash Robinson and his letters
represented, rather than try and undo the self-inflicted DCCmade-with-UE damage self-harm long since done. Given Robinson’s
work was based on the work of Roger Madican James, the response
to the results of a work of a true winner, was for such mentally
ill UE-human pawns to become full of hate and rage and spite and
jealousy and madness and the desire to ensure the work was never
published. Just as Roger Madican James had said, when people
became full of a UE-hate/revenge drive because he and she lived
in an unfair and unjust World/life never intended to be by the
forces of Collective Mother Nature, such UE-human pawns, just
because the intended design of UE had been slightly altered out
of the intended design, did not use the UE-hate/revenge drive to
be driven to end the great injustice of the unfair and evil
purpose serving World/life that caused the UE-hate/revenge drive
to be so strong in people in the first place. No. Such UE-human
pawns worked to make the injustice even worse, and society even
worse off, so society in reaction to the UE-hate/revenge drive
would constantly self-destroy itself as self-punishment for not
working out the truth that could turn the unfair and unjust
World/life into the fair and just and intended World/life, so
finally people would end the UE-hate/revenge drive and get well
and happy again.
In truth, evil wanted evil people to do evil in the name of
advancing the unconscious evil conspiracy to destroy all. This
then is why such willfully self-kept, so ignorant conscious
slaves of evil in the media, simply refused to allow Robinson
have his say. Instead, he and she consciously self-mirrored with
the UE-hate/revenge drive. Through Roger’s story/the mere
concept no one could even define, the only aim of the media was,
was to tell as many hate/revenge-driven lies as possible, in a
bid to destroy the concept of Roger Madican James, and through
this, destroy the thinking processes of as many of his and her
readers as was humanly possible.
Thus Robinson’s letters regarding the truth were simply
ignored, or Robinson was given nothing but a load of insults
instead of the expected compliments.
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
22
He’d warned the media not to do so, but nonetheless the
media did so. That is to say, he and she made the conscious
decision to connect with the-UE-hate/revenge drive and then to
puke out into print a load of mental vomit. This was mental
vomit dreamed up by UE having nightmares that conformed to all
evil spiritual laws UE was the sum of, in reaction to the type
of information/drama in the external World/life environment
self-conspiring to teach people how to think. As such this
mental puke/nightmares dreamed up by UE/drama was pacifically
self-designed by UE to give all other UE in the readers of such
trash, the chance to be fed evil information to then selfmagnify unconscious evil inspired nightmares that then arose to
take over the conscious thinking processes of the readers until
all were left full of reasons to hate or fear or despair or to
rant and rave yet more mental vomit/drama. Ultimately then, all
were given reasons to hate and despair and as such the wish to
take revenge and to punish and thus soon enough all were on the
rant.
Nationwide the name Riverstem Orphanage For Boys was
anathema to the American public. The Public wished now only to
know the truth of what had really gone on in the so sorry excuse
for an orphanage. The media always tried to give the Public what
IT wanted.
FACTORY OF RO-EVIL and THE CONCENTRATION CAMP WE NEVER KNEW
WE HAD was one of many new terms the media was said to have
coined to replace the hated name of RO, Riverstem Orphanage For
Boys. Robinson knew Roger Madican James had been the first to
coin that particular phrase FACTORY OF RO-EVIL. He’d even told
the media this in some of the letters he’d sent out to the
media. The media though pretended not to know whom the real
author was. Just as much as the media tried to pretend society
was a great place and every one was essentially good, while
simultaneously selling nothing but conscious-self-destructive
lies to the public mind, and yet no one seemed to know why
everyone was simply trying to pretend? Pretend what exactly?
Evil was good? There was no evil? There were just human beings
doing the best job with the lot he or she had been given? Why
exactly? Robinson had told the truth in his letters, and no one
had listened? Why? Why not break DCC-made-with-UE and use UE as
intended, as a mere fool-mortal-fool/learning aid on the subject
of Postmescic mortality, to firstly reject all works of evil and
mortality and use evil only to work out what was good and rite,
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
23
and secondly to use UE only to understand enough about the
subject of the mortal universe, to be able to figure out through
such concepts as science and physics, how to improve such things
as technology? Why continue to define the conscious being by the
filth of anti-conscious evil mortality, why turn a mere UElearning aid on the subject of Postmescic mortality, into a
universal World/life event/circumstance churning UE-fating mold
until the UE was pacifically aimed to drag all down into
spiritual and physical self-corruption/death?
Yet, despite Robinson having sent this idea to the media,
no mention was ever made of this idea created by Roger Madican
James in the media? Instead, as if to mock and consciouslymislead the human race, rather than the reality that the UE in
the members of the media was out to mock the nation of the pure
Gods for daring to believe in the potential worth of conscious
life force spirits evolving into increasingly wiser and purer
and more intelligent and compassionate human beings, many pages,
mindless padding and mental vomit and the documentation of long
and pointless lists of dramatic incidents from the ROcommittee’s reports that documented how Roger Madican James’
fellow RO-orphans had really treated Roger, were published
nationwide. Robinson had to wonder if such UE-human pawns even
knew he and she were evil? Or was IT the case such people were
so under the control of UE-evil inspired gut instinct and
emotions alone, he and she simply promoted other evil people for
imagined reasons, while keeping the true winners and good people
down and out of the equation, and yet actually thought he and
she was wise to do so?
Due to all the stories published concerning the R.M.J.
case, the public mind unconsciously feared even the RObuildings. They had once housed the social World/life scenes
required to turn one RO-orphan into such an evil man. Though
many so-called experts of the day tried to imply he or she could
understand, no one could understand or explain how a man as
young as Roger, just nineteen, could have contemplated such evil
crimes, let alone have gone out and so successfully executed
them, and even if the personal price he had to pay was death.
Nonetheless, the so-called experts of the day felt driven by the
UE-hate/revenge drive that made one feel as important as an
instinctive memory of an evil God out to self-create itself when
the evil drive was acted upon, to vent his and her shallow endbyproduct true-conscious-self-misleading UE-inspired negative
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
24
and so dramatic opinions. This was nothing but mental vomit
puked out of UE that conformed to all evil spiritual laws UE was
the sum of and that as such ensured the evil drama that came
out,
successfully
self-camouflaged
the
real
unconscious
conspiracy to trick humanity into constantly self-corrupting and
self-dividing into self-war and division the conscious thinking
processes with evil. The so-called experts of the day as such
spread self-corruption and reasons to hate and despair and to
wish to punish and to take revenge to all who heard of such
opinions about the R.M.J.-case. If asked why even bother to give
your worthless and totally pointless and mindlessly meaningless
opinions all inspired due to a hate/revenge-UE-drive, the socalled experts of the day might admit he and she wanted to feel
important. Yet the so-called experts of the day, considered so
PASSIONATE, were the very handy UE-human pawns to spread the
evil thinking all around to the rest of the country. This type
of thinking in effect self-trained, self-prepared, selfeducated, self-fashioned people to turn UE into the main source
of conscious inspiration and to bypass all impendent sense of
conscious self. Yet anyone who said the so-called experts of the
day were just spewing out evil energy were laughed at and
considered buffoons.
Mostly the experts blamed how Roger had been treated by his
fellow RO-orphans for Roger’s descent into insanity and mass
murder, in direct opposition to the fact that the majority of
the general public wished to forget the R.M.J.-case.
Everything under the sun was blamed for Roger being turned
into a murderer but the actual Postmescic/UE truth.
The story detailing the self-corruption that had thrived
within RO-society was widely known. Some of the details of this
story concerned soiled underwear found in a secret L11-storage
room-the Black Museum. Unmerciful canings. Abusive RO-teaching
staff. Evil and hate filled and spiteful RO-orphans, and a ROcaretaker that raped boys. Children all across the nation began
to tell wicked ghost stories centered on the concept of
Riverstem Orphanage For Boys. There were rumors these ghost
stories had originated, when the unknown ex-RO-orphans had been
moved onto other institutions. Once there, the ex-RO-orphans had
started to spread the social RO-rot. Parents decided to even
hear, or to invent such morbid ghost stories was not good for
innocent children with innocent imaginations, who probably did
not even compass the mortal gravity of the subject matter he and
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
25
she were discussing. The parents felt the social RO-rot should
be stopped before IT could dig down deep enough to root in the
minds of the so susceptible young. For the young might then feel
destructive compulsions to make a lot of bad World/lifedecisions that would ultimately lead onto destructive behavior,
and unfocused adult World/lives.
The experts of the day claimed the children were trying to
outdo one another by telling the most horrible stories regarding
RO and RO-hauntings possible. In reality, the stories became
increasingly more dark and sordid because of the UE-drive to
magnify DCC-made-with-UE.
Certainly, no one wanted to contemplate that unconsciously,
people felt compelled to believe the shocking ghost stories
reflected something of authentic truth. Some children drew
frightening drawings of Dorothy Philpot. She had a milestone
tied around her neck. In many drawings she was being pushed by
the hand of a vindictive God off a cliff and down and into the
deepest sea. Unconsciously, parents feared some of the stories
and drawings that related back to the concept of RO that the
children came out with, might have been inspired not just by the
stories supporting Dorothy Philpot’s evil RO-reputation, but
also by her actual vengeful spirit. Upon reflection, some
parents decided he or she had always known in his or her gut
Dorothy Philpot’s-reputation as the State’s greatest and most
honest headmistress-with a heart of gold beneath a tough
exterior-had been a reputation too good to be true. In reality,
the parents felt that Dorothy Philpot’s reputation had somehow
come to exist, due to the same desire Dorothy Philpot had been
filled with to always tell evil lies and to gossip and to
support only evil that had somehow infected other people. Some
children claimed the wicked Phil/pot witch was continuing in her
desire to self-corrupt young minds, so innocent and naïve he or
she were open to interpreting her self-corrupting and selfhaunting ghostly spiritual influence into dreadful stories and
drawings.
Certainly
the
children
greatly
feared
Dorothy
Philpot’s ghost. Certainly, no one ever thought to say there was
a UE of a standard design at work in the children’s minds also,
out to magnify DCC-made-with-UE in response to the evil
information in the environment.
Evil-purpose-serving
information
such
as
the
media
constantly spewed out, so anyone who was traumatized by
World/life, such as been raped or abused, could hardly ever get
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
26
well. For once a major DCC-made-with-UE was opened, the DCCmade-with-UE could hardly ever be shut down or cut off, due to
all the evil stimulating/self-magnifying information the media
and the entertainment industry mindlessly bombarded society with
as part of the real World/life Nazi-Germany Propaganda machinelike, real Postmescic-Satan’s dream factory creating plot. Then,
with people kept consciously ignorant to how UE really worked,
the usual result was various forms of mental illness in regard
to the confused and conscious-self-deconstructing thinking that
subsequently developed in the mind trying to best react to, or
make sense out of the misinformation in the environment that was
really the evil-purpose-serving information stemming from anticonscious UE. As such IT could and would only mean the total
destruction of the conscious life force spirit before any true
and worthwhile information regarding the real evil source cause
could be gotten at.
Yet Robinson had also written down this idea created by
Roger Madican James in his letters to the media. Had anyone
listened? No. He and she had instead become full of hate and
rage and spite and the mindless UE-hate/revenge-desire to deny
and
to
shut
Robinson
up.
All
for
deeply
personal
reasons/feelings that had nothing to do with UE of course!
It had been Dorothy Philpot who had insisted on keeping the
RO-record books. They recorded all of the savage canings she had
subjected so many of her RO-orphans to over the years. After her
untimely death it was this demand for strict record keeping-that
became the means that ensured the ultimate downfall of her
reputation/concept in the public mind. The documented facts
could not be avoided, as much as they could not be changed. If
anything, the documented facts could only be covered up by those
in a position of authority.
Most frightening to the more honest members of the public
was that the existence of the RO-record books seemed to suggest
Dorothy Philpot herself, had not even been aware of the point
she had crossed the line into pure evil and insanity. IT also
appeared Dorothy Philpot had never expected to be held
accountable for her near endless abuse and mindless torture of
so many RO-orphans, not in this World/life or the next.
Robinson had also written in his letters to the media
Roger’s idea that evil people thought at a deeper level he and
she would be rewarded for doing evil, because evil wanted it
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
27
this way. IT was evil then that really was giving evil people
rewards so people would continue to do evil.
Was he listened to? No! The media ranted and raved
indignantly that he and she were no fools, but people who had
damn good reasons for everything he and she did based only on
intelligence, World/life experience and insight into the way
things really were.
It was widely reported if one RO-record book was opened,
and then twenty or thirty pages skipped, the extent of Dorothy
Philpot’s swift descent into criminal insanity would be
immediately obvious to anyone. Yet, the authorities had never
handed over the RO-punishment record books for public scrutiny.
Reporters claimed his or her reports were based on what he or
she had been told in confidence by those in law enforcement who
had
thumbed
through
the
RO-record
punishment
books.
In
particular, those who had looked had paid close attention to the
months leading up to Dorothy Philpot’s murder. He or she had
seen a direct increase in the number of savage beatings of the
RO-orphans that had been a World/life situation so unacceptable
to any reasonable person, that, that person had decided to defy
the oppressive authority figures trying to repress the truth,
and had gone straight to the media with the knowledge he or she
was in possession of.
Had anyone listened to the opinions of Sheriff Robinson
who’d been apart of the actual murder investigations? No! His
truth was too much too take. Only the opinions of spit drooling
morally bankrupt conscious fools were taken into consideration.
Robinson had seen these morally bankrupt conscious fools. The
eyes had glinted darkly to reflect the primal unconscious evil
intellect arising to fill the fools with the sensation the fools
were powerful and important, so the fools would continue to talk
the
worthless
mental
vomit/shallow
end
true-independentconscious-self-misleading byproduct of UE-inspired drama that he
and she did.
The reason the RO-orphans had become ex-RO-orphans so soon,
was due to public and Religious Groups, and catholic pressure
groups such as the Legion Of Decency, and prayer groups in the
Pentagon. Such groups put relentless pressure on his and her
congressmen, and the Virginia State Department of Education to
close Riverstem Orphanage down for good. Such groups argued no
child could grow up healthy in a building with such an evil
history. Like spiritual RO-rot, the public feared the RO-
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
28
institution’s past would somehow self-corrupt any innocent minds
allowed to remain at RO. One church leader claimed it was true
that no one but a conscious fool would try to explain how and
why one tiny community, or society, operating within a much
larger and healthy society, could suddenly start to generate
World/life social events that lead onto the creation of a mass
murderer. Yet this point was double-sided. For equally then, no
one but a conscious fool would then continue to allow a ROorphanage to operate. For it was obvious that in RO negative
World/life social patterns required to create a mass murderer
had been in operation. No one knew exactly what had been said
and done in RO to turn Roger Madican James into a mass murderer,
but in some way, how conscious-Roger had decided to think in
reaction to the information coming out of his RO-society… and
had decided to think in reaction to how RO-Culture people had
treated him… and had decided to think in reaction to what
information Roger had been made privy to… had caused Roger
Madican James to end up thinking he should do what no rational
conscious logic could ever self-justify. He should to go around
killing women and men, and despite the fact that in doing so,
Roger could only make things much worse for himself… Whether he
ended up behind bars for the rest of his natural World/life… Or
was shot dead by lawmen out to stop the spread of the mass
murder and chaos, and then Roger only got to go to hell?
All conscious decoding crap of course, as Robinson pointed
out in his letters to various people. He’d clearly stated the
only reason conscious decoding was required, was because UE was
unstable in everyone, because this was a failed World/life
serving evil drives pacifically self-designed to destroy all
conscious life, and as such UE would always remain unstable
until the correct fair and just society was created, and as such
feel good lies were required to trick people into trying to make
a failed system work that was pacifically self-designed by evil
to hurt him and her.
Did anyone listen? No! The reaction was to lash back at
society, to ensure UE became even more unstable in all, so some
individual might try to feel better about his and her self on a
short term basis with his or her conscious decoding crap!
In truth then, it had to be said, people all across the
land reckoned that Roger ending up as an insane mass murderer
who killed for no logical reason or personal gain, had to be a
collective-self-judgment on the entire RO-Culture population.
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
29
This collective-self-judgment was that RO-Culture was in some
inexplicable way, a purely evil culture?
RO was not a Country, or a State, or a business, or even a
State Prison much depended upon. IT was a small RO-orphanage
easily put out of operation. With over two hundred RO-orphans
having graduated side by side with Roger Madican James, this
left only eight hundred or so RO-orphans to divide up into tiny
groups. These groups could then be scattered to different parts
of the Country. The two hundred or so orphans, who had arrived
to start their first school year in RO, were not the concern.
The long-term RO-residents were. It was argued that the smaller
the number of ex-RO-orphans to arrive in a new institution, the
better. Three or even six ex-RO-orphans, sent to a new
institution, would hardly be enough to self-corrupt the hundreds
if not thousands of other orphans already in that institution?
After all, every institution had its own unique culture and
collective mind, did it not? Hopefully then, it would be another
institution’s culture that would work the evil RO-Culture,
spite, hate and the desire to constantly tell lies in order to
self-corrupt others, out of the ex-RO-orphans. If a small
World/life RO-society could self-train, self-prepare, selfeducate, self-fashion an RO-orphan to think in error, to
constantly think the wrong thing, and then through repetition of
incorrect thinking reinforce evil-thought patterns until firmly
held convictions in the RO-orphans conscious mind, then surely
if such an RO-orphan was put into a new orphanage society where
there was correct thinking and proper conduct… and the ex-ROorphan got no reinforcement for his incorrect thinking… only
constant opposition by a society with different beliefs…
eventually the constantly reoccurring evil-thought patterns
could be put into reverse? Then, in a sense, such thought
patterns constantly occurring could be worn out of his conscious
mind? They could be replaced by whole new thought-patterns
representing correct thinking that would be constantly selfreinforced by an entire World/life society operating in a fair
and just and good way?
It was equally argued then, that if only small numbers of
ex-RO-orphans arrived in a new institution along with many other
new arrivals, then no one had to know where the ex-RO-orphans
had come from. This could ensure the ex-RO-orphans did not
become what they had turned Roger Madican James into, the
subject of gossip and persecution due to the nationwide media
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
30
coverage and the hate-RO-campaign. It was also argued that it
should always be remembered that the ex-RO-orphans were still
basically
children
whose
personalities
were
still
in
development, and not adults. As such only kindness and
compassion/really only feel good conscious decoding crap/should
be the response to this outburst of evil until the ex-RO-orphan
had so much kindness and compassion shown to him, he in turn
became kind and compassionate. No ex-RO-orphan should have to be
turned into a social outcast due to stigma carried over from a
madman’s many insane crimes. Best of all then, come graduation
from a new institution, an ex-RO-orphan would never have to
mention to any future colleges or employers he had once been an
RO-orphan, and especially so during the World/life time period
Roger Madican James had spent in RO.
At least this was the conscious decoding feel good crap
thinking of the day in concern to the RO-orphans. In regard to
the actual reality of the situation?
I TRULY HATE THEM ALL FOR WHAT THEY DID! THE WORTHLESS
ORPHANED RO-BASTARD COWARDS RELENTLESSLY ABUSED, BULLIED, AND
PERSECUTED ROGER MADICAN JAMES UNTIL HE SNAPPED! THEY SHOULD ALL
BE SEVERELY PUNISHED, ABUSED, PERSECUTED AND BULLIED, THE MOST
WORTHLESS YELLOW COWARDS OF RIVERSTEM ORPHANAGE FOR BOYS!
…Was one opinion of one member of the public, ready himself
to now relentlessly abuse, bully and persecute the ex-RO
orphans/the mere concept of the ex-RO-orphans he didn’t even
know/due to the great evil they had done in this World/life. The
UE-hate/revenge/desire to punish others/the mere concept of
others for real or imaginary sins was very strong in all.
The Public cried out that the ex-RO-orphans should all be
tried in a man-made court of law for violating Roger Madican
James civil rites, and for any other charges the powers that be
could think up to bring against them. The powers that be refused
to consider this particular form of revenge. Nonetheless,
despite the powers that be initially fighting to keep RO open
and operating, it wasn’t long before the public and pressure
groups had his and her way. Given the scant space Virginia State
had available in Her other institutions, the ex-RO-orphans were
scattered across the breath of the entire Nation. The Media,
never one to let a good story die, labeled the ex-RO-orphans as
the…
RO-REFUGEES! ONCE THEY SEEMED TO HAVE IT ALL IN A PRIVATELY
FUNDED RO-ORPHANAGE! NOW THEY HAVE NOTHING!
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
31
Once again, the mere concept of RO was to be used to warp
the thinking processes of as many readers of the media output as
was humanly possible.
Predictably enough, no lessons were learnt from the stories
detailing how bullies, persecution, and social isolation and
misinformation and hate, had seemingly turned Roger Madican
James into a depraved monster of depravity. In the new States
that accepted the ex-RO-orphans, the ex-RO-orphans/the concepts
no one could even define other than as the ENEMY were treated
like unwanted refugees. People said one thing, but did another.
Staff promised never to mention to anyone where the ex-ROorphans stemmed from. Then broke that promise. Some people
claimed the ex-RO-orphans were a financial burden on any State
outside of Virginia that should not then have to support them.
Other people claimed when he or she had to deal with the ex-ROorphans on a long-term basis, he or she noticed the ex-ROorphans acting strangely. He and she also noticed that the exRO-orphans/the concepts had problems adapting to their new
environment. IT was said the ex-RO-orphans’ eyes often glinted
darkly with a funny shine. As such in the face of the ex-ROorphans people felt frustration and despair and hate, and so the
desire to take revenge against such wicked children. The fact
that society/the concept that was the collective public mind
would seemingly support this form of persecution and punishment
and revenge meant so many people jumped on the bandwagon that
was the… PUNISH THE RO-ORPHANS/CONCEPT AND PROVE WHAT A GOOD AND
NOBLE AND POWERFUL PERSON YOU ARE, AND NEVER HAVE TO BE HELD
ACCOUNTABLE FOR THIS PARTICULAR FORM OF EVIL, LIKE THE EX-ROORPHANS/CONCEPT MUST BE HELD ACCOUNTABLE BY BEING DESTROYED.
Surely then what people/collective public mind as if one person
felt at a gut/visceral/emotional/unconscious level was what
somehow self-constituted what reality really was. As such, such
feelings surely self-justified the hatred people subsequently
felt for each ex-RO-orphan and the desire to punish them, for if
ex-RO-orphan/mere concept caused people to feel bad, then the
ex-RO-orphan must be bad. After all, these ex-RO-orphans had
come out of an ignorant and inherently wicked RO-society. IT had
even been publicly exposed to ridicule. No outsider wanted any
ex-RO-orphan to get away with the evil World/life scenes they
had conspired to bring into Roger Madican James’ World/life for
no good or sane reason. Such a World/life scenario would
constitute a great injustice, and human beings had powerful
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
32
reactions to the concept of what was just and unjust. The fact
of the matter was that not only had each ex-RO-orphan been so
evil towards Roger Madican James each ex-RO-orphan had done his
very best to drive Roger Madican James to murder, but also then,
subsequently, each ex-RO-orphan had privately celebrated when
Roger Madican James had become that mass murderer. No one was
ever going to forget this. Anyway, it was the constant pleasureseeking human condition that when one felt bad, one did not
suffer privately. No. One did something about the bad feelings,
such as to lash out at the person considered to be the source of
the bad feelings, whether that is physically, or by word of
mouth, or the thoughts and fantasies privately entertained in
the mind aimed to destroy that bad person/concept, really the UE
in the self generating conflict and reasons then to hate and
despair. IT seemed though the human been had billions of years
of evolution behind him or her, and the most complicated organ
that was the brain in the known universe, from a conscious
perspective, each human thought it was his or her birth/rite as
a human being to symbolically piss and shit and vomit his or her
evil over anyone-then made into a torture victim, who made him
or her feel bad, and this mere FEELING considered more important
than the concept of the value of a unique human being.
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
33
PART 3
(OF 4-PARTS)
Whatever about the true value of the individual human being
ex-RO-orphans/concept compared to the concept of RO-Culture, ROphysical property was a different matter. There were financial
gains to be calculated by the powers that be. Unknown to the
public, who would surely feel dread if he or she knew the true
facts of the case, Virginia State had plans for the RO-physical
property. Virginia State contributed an insignificant amount to
social services as it was. Virginia State was not going to waste
any potential funding. Unlike the value of unemployed human
beings considered worthless unless working to make money for
someone else, a dollar value could be put on inanimate objects.
Especially when it came to RO, once the pride of the State, and
the benefactor of immense private funding.
Within days of the ex-RO-orphans been shipped off on buses
and trains to other institutions that littered the breathe of
the Nation, assessors were sent in to RO. After the assessors
departed, workmen were sent in with one purpose. Anything marked
to be of value, fixtures, furnishings, textbooks, new pencils,
shoes, uniforms, etc., that could be salvaged and sold at
auction, or supplied to other schools or institutions, was to be
stripped from the internal building. Only then were all RO-doors
and RO-windows and RO-exits to be barricaded shut. It was widely
felt RO’s formidable reputation should scare off from the old
RO-grounds, any potential respectable visitors whose opinion
mattered. As such, no one whose opinion mattered should ever be
the wiser as to what was really going on behind the World/life
scenes in concern to the scavenging back over no-longer
operational RO-woe. Once more it appeared the concept of money,
the value attributed to inanimate physical objects, was
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
34
considered more important than the individual human being, or
what the collective public wished to see happen in regard to RO.
The workmen found virtually a goldmine. It surpassed all
expectations. Dozens of supply rooms were secreted throughout
RO. Some of them were in underground basements. All combined,
the RO-supply rooms contained enough high quality and brand new
stock to run two orphanages for two years running. So much for
Dorothy Philpot’s insistence her RO-orphans make the very best
use out of all articles they were given, because she might not
be able to replace those articles for some time. In reality,
Dorothy Philpot had willfully chosen to cause the RO-orphans in
her care to unnecessarily constantly fear and fret for the
future, and to worry that the funding might one day very soon
run out before they graduated, and as such they could be out the
door and back on the street. Yet again, it appeared that Dorothy
Philpot had simply been looking for another excuse to spread
hate and anger and reasons to despair and fret and worry into
all around her.
Once again it appeared the old rule of evil had been at
work here to. Abuse others for the sake of abuse and for no
other logical reason. Yet, don’t let the victim know this, that
the victim feels bad because evil people are abusing him and
lying to him for the sake of been evil alone. Instead, take a
whole and complete individual, fracture up his personality into
self-war and misery. Then lie to him by telling him if he wishes
to be a whole and complete person again who is happy, he must
try to become rich and famous and exploit others for his end
gain. All, a pack of lies regarding how the victim is being
somehow
self-trained,
self-prepared,
self-educated,
selffashioned by environmental conditions to wish to become great in
a RO-society, so the victim, rather than face he is being abused
for the sake of abuse and evil alone and for no other reason,
will end up with confused thinking, imagining there are no free
lunches in this World/life, and all success must be paid for in
some terribly personal way through pain and misery and hardship.
Also, he must be tricked into thinking the RO-staff must be very
great and wise and experienced indeed. Rather than the subhuman, UE-purpose serving, pig-human animals, self-kept so
ignorant and mentally ill conscious slaves of evil he and she
truly were.
Given there were just so much articles in storage, one
workman wondered if Dorothy Philpot had privately self-
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
35
entertained fantasies of self-preparing for the end of the
World/life. At which time her generation of young RO-orphans
could survive, and repopulate the Earth with Dorothy Philpot as
their queen. Whether or not Dorothy Philpot had self-entertained
such sexual fantasies as her self-justification, was irrelevant.
When one workman considered Dorothy Philpot had most brutally
canned her RO-orphans for such minor infractions as expected
wear and tear of a RO-uniform… and despite the fact there had
been stock rooms piled full of such RO-uniforms yet to be used…
he felt enraged. He vented his negative and UE-hate/revengeinspired judgmental opinions/mental vomit generated in reaction
to mental vomit, to his colleagues.
Each summer Dorothy Philpot had gone on her yearly fundraising trips. She had proclaimed she did not have the funding
to replace the old wood lockers she assigned to the younger ROorphans. Yet more lies.
Within one week of the workmen’s arrival, the entire
contents of RO-classrooms Roger Madican James had once sat and
suffered in, were shipped off elsewhere. These contents were
used to refurnish classrooms drastically in need of repair. It
was not long then, before new students, in far off institutions,
were sitting at the old RO-desks, using the old RO-textbooks,
copybooks and pencils, and even wearing RO-shoes and RO-pants.
In some instances, the entire contents of RO-classrooms were
simply transported, and fully resurrected in once empty
classrooms. Unlike the nasty gossip generated by the arrival of
ex-RO-orphans into various different institutions, no one was
the wiser in regard to where the new physically inanimate school
supplies had come from. The majority of RO-school supplies were
interchangeable with other school supplies.
Any RO-property that bore a RO-logo was either left behind,
or, if possible, and if it was not too time consuming, the ROlogo was removed. Then the article was shipped out so someone
else, elsewhere, to use it. Certainly, the authorities did not
believe in any superstitious nonsense, such as the inanimate ROsupplies being in someway self-tainted by negative spiritual
residue. Nor did he or she believe that there could be any truth
in regard to the widespread talk among the general public
concerning haunting and wicked spirits.
‘The want-a-be President maker… churning out men who’ll
take command of, in order to then transform the whole country
for the better… and the glory of this whole new prosperous land
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
36
a reflection of Dorothy Philpot and her great mind that did
self-design the most unique and special five year RO-school
educational system as the great man maker in/deed…’ sneered one
workman when he considered Dorothy Philpot’s self-justification
for perpetrating such widespread abuse for the sake of abuse
alone.
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
37
PART 4
(OF 4-PARTS)
In Virginia State then, during the school year of 1964/1965
there was a swell in school supplies. Officials pointed out to
the media, total public school expenditures for the school year
of 1965, were going to be $424,500,000. This was more than four
times the expenditure for the year 1950. Since 1950 teaching
staff more than doubled to 38,000. The number of public school
students increased from roughly 598,000 to 977,000. Virginia
State had come a long way. The future was looking good. No
longer would any such RO-institution be tolerated. In many
sectors the Virginia State Department Of Education was applauded
for making such an effort to increase funding and doing the best
job possible to resolve the public relations disaster.
Nothing was resolved of course. Nationwide, if the topic of
the
R.M.J.-issue
came
up,
old
RO-graduates
referred
to
themselves as ex-RO-graduates. BACK WHEN I WAS IN RO, IT WAS
NOTHING LIKE THE RO IT EVENTUALLY BECAME!
In subsequent years when ex-RO-orphans graduated from
various different institutions, they were followed by the ROrefugee stigma. When filling out a job application, the ROrefugees had to resort to reinventing their pasts. They as such
put down as their home since earliest childhood the name of the
orphanage they had been transferred to after RO’s-closure. They
even feared to mention the orphanage they had grown up in, prior
to they been accepted into the so-called great five-school-year
RO-system, for fear someone would contact the orphanage and ask
too many questions. If the topic of RO ever came up, the ex-ROorphans denied any association. The RO-orphans knew by now of
course, due to tried and tested World/life experiences that even
people who initially decided to give them a break, would
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
38
immediately reverse that decision as soon as other people gave
him and her plenty of good reasons to hate the ex-RO-orphans,
and to decide to view the ex-RO-orphans as sub-human garbage of
no worth to society. Who, as such, should never be given a break
and always punished in some socially acceptable way. Socially
acceptable way, been anyway where the individual doing the
punishing did not have to worry about his or her self going to
jail for a crime due to he or she breaking some so-called man
made law of this most particular land, or his or her self being
persecuted by his or her society for doing the persecuting.
There was of course no conscious logic to self-justify or to
explain why this World/life situation was the status quo. All
the ex-RO-orphans had no choice then but to be literally forced
against their will and better conscious judgment to begin to
realize that the majority of people were been controlled by what
Roger Madican James had once labeled the UE, within a larger
Postmescic-mind-God-remaking-picture,
and
that
larger
Postmescic-mind-God-remarking-picture was evil incarnate. The
RO-orphans had to become good actors and liars just to get on in
this World/life. The conscious decoding plan drawn up by
Religious
leaders
for
healthy
societies,
and
constant
reinforcement of love and compassion and correct and proper
learning to work out the damage RO-society had inflicted upon
the orphans thinking processes, failed then. True, in the face
of the experts of the day giving his and her negative shallow
end true-independent-conscious-self-misleading byproduct of UEinspired judgmental opinions on the R.M.J.–case, many of the
public had expressed the desire to forget all about the R.M.J.affair. Ultimately though, nothing was forgotten. It seemed any
reason a person was given to mindlessly hate and destroy and
punish someone else, or something else, or even one’s self, was
a good enough reason. All that mattered was society would accept
the abuse of the RO-enemy. People even felt like most wise and
powerful big shots when he or she hurt the RO-enemy. And so the
Postmescic
mind
God
governed
World/life-show
continued
mindlessly onwards. Publicly there was no trace of authentic
conscious
intelligence,
insight,
perspective,
talent
and
understanding betrayed. There was just the shallow end trueindependent-conscious-self-misleading byproduct of UE-inspired
trash/mental vomit all decided was understandable, and as such,
acceptable.
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
39
Even in regard to Religious leaders who actually knew if he
and she had grown up in a different country, he and she would
have been raised to believe in a completely different Religion
than he and she presently believed in… and so would have an
entirely different belief system than he and she presently did…
and yet such people only knew the UE-inspired hate/revenge drive
when his and her self-chosen belief system he and she had been
raised by his and her parents to believe in, was contradicted.
And no one choose to wonder why, and what was really going on
behind the World/life conscious scenes? And yet he and she were
ready to condemn RO-orphans for accepting the belief system ROCulture had self-trained the RO-orphans to believe in?
All and all that only left the RO-orphans, no longer
getting reinforcement for their self-chosen belief systems and
self-chosen delusional self-images from any quarter of society,
to begin to question… and question… what Roger had really been
writing about in his Killian Scott Thomas Schull essay homework,
which so many of them had read. Not because they wanted to
question, but because they felt forced by hate and despair and
pain to feel compelled to look to the so lowly whore’s jackass
bum son’s work for answers. Once again IT appeared human beings
would simply refuse to change his and her behavior and way of
doing things and thinking, until he and she were literally
forced by the majority through endless pain and punishment and
misfortune until he and she began to do so. And still no one
choose to wonder why! And even still no one could understand!
BUT THERE ISN’T A UE, THERE CAN’T BE… BECAUSE I CAN’T
UNDERSTAND… THERE’S NO WAY INTO UNDERSTANDING?
Yet such people who thought this, imagined at a gut level,
he and she understood the laughable delusions and lies they’d
been raised to believe in as a so-called complex belief system…
But which were delusions and lies that ultimately meant nothing
at all, and as such, no one understood such lies and delusions
at all either. IT was simply the case he and she felt compelled
to think he and she did at a gut/visceral/emotional level that
was never conscious.
IT IS GOOD FOR YOU TO BE RIDICULED AND HATED… THIS IS
ALWAYS WHAT HAPPENS TO SAINTS… was one Religious person’s answer
to IT all, rather than the actual reality that people only
suffered because he and she lived in a failed World/life the
Collective forces that are Mother Nature had never intended
humanity to self-create for itself. As such humanity had been
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
40
pacifically self-designed by Mother Nature to constantly selfpunish until the fair and just and intended human World/life was
self-created.
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
41
2
(IN 7-PARTS)
PART 1
(OF 7-PARTS)
It was late in the month of September 1964. Huge trucks
arrived at RO. Like organized scavengers descending on a
shipwreck disaster, dozens of workmen started to go through the
abandoned RO-buildings.
In October-1964 a large white and unmarked van drove
through the Main-RO-Gateway. Defying the erosive elements, an
old and dusty, but steadfast sign was erected on one of the
Main-RO-Gates.
HOMICIDE SITE
THIS SITE IS CURRENTLY UNDER INVESTIGATION!
IT IS UNLAWFUL TO REMOVE ANY ARTICLES, OR DEBRIS, FROM THIS
SIGHT! ANY SUCH ACTION WILL RESULT IN PROSECUTION!
Confronted by a workman holding a large red and white STOP
sign, the van slowed to a halt. George Ira Robinson was driving
the van. Michael Riordan sat in the front passenger seat.
‘What
in
the
State/mind
Postmescic/Embodiment/Reasonweaving-hell?’ Robinson muttered.
A long line of trucks loaded down with RO-possessions tore
up World Avenue. The monstrous truck wheels stirred up swirling
clouds of RO-drive-dust. The truck-sides tore at what few
mangled branches were left protruding to outline where once a
woodland canopy had formed over the drive. The wood bridge had
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
42
not been trusted to support the ton weight of the endless stream
of trucks. A two-inch thick sheet of solid steel covered the
wood bridge. Many of the bridge’s wood planks had already
snapped and had fallen into the dark muddy river passing by
below. The fallen wood beams had either been carried off into
the shadowy RO-woodland, or had been hooked by the muddy
riverbank.
The workman holding the glaring red and white STOP-sign in
one gloved-hand used his free hand to knock against the driver’s
window. Robinson wound the window down. He refused to look at
the face beneath the hardhat. Robinson looked directly ahead
through the windscreen. He remembered what the World Avenue
driveway snaking through the RO-woodland, had once looked like.
The driveway was as old as Robinson was. As much as he had once
come to accept RO-Culture teachings as sound facts, and the
greatest wisdom of the present day prior to the so many murders
occurring, he couldn’t imagine the World/life void of this
driveway. And yet, by now, the World/life nearly was. This was
not the case with the lies, faulty logic and crooked definitions
RO-Culture had managed to get into his psyche in the form of
nightmarishly paradoxical thought patterns that constantly
occurred in his conscious mind as an apparently realistic
explanation for World/life events. Yet anytime he tried to
remove this RO-Culture inspired detrimental belief system from
his conscious mind, he became full of primal hate. He felt the
strong desire to stop this self-cleansing process from naturally
occurring. This was the case despite the fact that to remove the
detrimental RO-Culture belief system would be to remove so many
DCC-made-with-UE, so he might become healthy again PP:FCIC-madewith-IG-style. So why did he feel a strong UE-desire to hang
onto the evil-inspired logic-that could every only serve to
destroy him, and people around him, in some way?
He could only suppose it was like his memories of Hollywood
films. Such films were full of nothing but death, sex and
violence presented as entertainment. Yet Robinson was so stupid,
at the first mention of some film featuring death, sex and
violence coming to town, he felt his gut reaction to be
excitement. As an innocent child who did not understand the
World/life, but who had always been looking to understand the
adult World/life, Hollywood films had actually managed to trick
him through the use of good looking and charismatic actors,
music and clever direction, into thinking he liked violence,
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
43
death and sex, and such concepts could be labeled great
entertainment? Yet as an adult, he felt nothing but truest souldestroying disgust and horror and terror when watching such crap
he had started to analyze the real psychology behind. He now saw
only the Human Reason Victims and the murdered lawman within,
and at the end of the drama line? Yet to this day, when he heard
a film he had seen as a child was coming on television, he felt
a gut reaction of excitement? Till he actually watched the evilpurpose serving trash and understood IT for what IT really was
through adult eyes? Why, why would any human being even think he
or she wished to be self-entertained by viewing murders, when
the actual reality of murder was so horrific and disgusting, and
caused such widespread pain and misery and scourge?
How then to remove all of this DCC-made-with-UE governed
thinking and emotional associations that society had started to
bombard his mind with since earliest childhood? How to see ITall for what IT-all really was and what IT really related back
to?
‘How
did
you
get
past
Larry?’
the
workman
asked
defensively. No doubt Larry was the workman stationed out on the
road winding parallel to the RO-grounds. Larry stood next to the
first of a pair of mobile traffic lights separated by about two
hundred yards of road.
Michael Riordan flashed his FBI credentials. ‘I’ve got a
court order for the permanent-RO-record files for the orphans of
Riverstem!’
Robinson considered that after hearing Roger Madican James
had disappeared into the gas station fire, where he was rumored
to have himself burned to death-his way of honoring his mother’s
death, Michael had gone to court. Michael had blocked the
transferal of the RO-orphans permanent-RO-records to various
diverse World/life locations. Michael knew the permanent-ROrecords would soon have to be sent ahead to the ex-RO-orphans
new residences. Michael also knew an ex-RO-orphan’s end-of-theyear graded exam-papers were kept in his permanent-RO-record
file. Michael intended to give such handwriting samples to
experts in Graphology. They would surely unmask The Post/man’s
true identity. The Post/man had hardly had someone else sit an
exam for him in RO, an institution very strict about exams?
After Roger Madican James had vanished without a trace, and
there had been no reported sightings of him across the entire
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
44
breathe of the country, or clues found as to where he had gone,
Michael had managed to get his court order.
‘O yah! I got word about that! So you are those guys?’
‘Rite,’ Michael said harshly. The workman had irritated him
by asking the obvious. IT didn’t take much to irritate Michael
these days.
‘Well, you’re welcome to shift through whatever is left up
there! But I’m not promising there’s much!’
Robinson turned sharply. Another truck rumbled up the old
World Avenue. The truck then turned out the Main-RO-Gateway,
sending clouds of irritating dust flying everywhere. ‘Whatever
is left? Who in hell gave you permission to go into the ROorphans’ personal files?’
The workman raised his gloved-hand, palm forward. ‘Hey
buddy! Nobody touched your precious RO-files! But we sure as
hell got everything else up there!’
‘How long before we can go on through?’ Robinson asked.
‘As soon as this convoy exits the drive. After that, all
that is left is the last five trucks up at the Main-RO-Building.
Those guys will be done within half an hour. After that, there
won’t be another convoy coming in until tomorrow morning. Within
half an hour, all of us will be finished for the day. We’ve used
up all our overtime. Don’t worry about locking the Main-RO-Gates
on your way out. Just shut them. There isn’t much left worth
steeling up there… Not that anyone would want to, if they know
even half the truth of that dreadful place of RO-woe.
‘Who did that woman think she was? The things we’re even
still finding up there. If you ask me, she should have been
locked up for her own/ed good a long time ago. Would be still
alive if she had been! She was criminally insane, no doubt.
What’d she do IT all for, I ask you? A President maker, huh!’
Robinson guessed it was easier for people such as this
workman to put all evil behavior down to the work of
incomprehensible insanity, rather than face the very real UE,
and the UE-agenda that actually controlled the masses, and that
even included this workman to. This workman was simply using his
UE in ways society said was acceptable, and as such reinforced
such insane behavior. In truth, the majority of human beings
were mentally ill. He and she didn’t know it because the
majority was mentally ill, and thus mental illness was
considered the norm.
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
45
PART 2
(OF 7-PARTS)
Robinson reversed. He parked so the van’s rear faced the
Main-RO-Doors. The Main-RO-Doors bore a round black hole in
place of the State seal. Some of the last few workmen still here
were climbing into their trucks, or finishing the job of
boarding up some of the RO-windows.
‘Inora mind God!’ Robinson said. ‘They’ve even taken out
some of the old RO-windows with their frames. They have uprooted
the flag pole!’
‘Come on,’ Michael said. ‘We’ve got a lot of work to do
here. Anyway, you don’t actually think anyone wants to see the
Virginian State Flag flying proudly, here of all possible
places?’
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
46
PART 3
(OF 7-PARTS)
Robinson used his walking stick’s tip to push open one of
the Main-RO-Doors. His eyes widened. Even the tiled RO-engine
floor had been taken up, stacked logically, and carted out in
boxes. Only one box of tiles remained. A ladder was erected
against the external RO-cafeteria wall. The duct-cover had been
removed. Directly opposite the ladder, the dead house door still
bore the small mirror, and the brazed plate he knew bore the
inscription…
SEE YOURSELF AS RIVERSTEM OPHANAGE SEES YOU! STAND-PROUD!
The few workmen walking up and down the RO-engine always
avoided walking under the ladder. The workmen did so despite
there been no workman or tools or bucket to accidentally fall
off the ladder. Yet, in direct contrast, there were obstructions
around the ladder, such as the box of floor tiles and work tools
that meant it would be easier to walk under the ladder rather
than around it.
‘So? Where are these permanent-RO-record files Robinson?’
Michael wheeled the lift truck through the Main-RO-Doorway. The
lift truck was a hand-operated dolly. Michael had pilled several
wood pallets onto the horizontal prongs. To ensure less chance
of damage to the RO-files, several RO-file boxes would be first
stacked on a pallet. Then wrapped in protective plastic and
labeled. The prongs would be inserted through the pallet-side.
The prongs would then be drawn up a vertical guide until the
pallet was an inch or two above ground level. It could then be
easily wheeled out and into the back of the van.
Robinson knew that after Michael had been shot August-9TH of
this too-same year, Michael had been flown to a private
Washington hospital. Once there, he had spent a few days
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
47
recovering from surgery. He had spent another ten days at home
prior returning to the hospital to have all bandages and
stitches removed, and his ugly new scarring revealed. Robinson
suspected that the spiritual wounds ran much deeper DCC-madewith-UE-style. They would not be so easily healed PP:FCIC-madewith-IG-style.
‘I have to check on something first.’ Robinson was staring
at the slightly ajar dead house door. His hand tightened on the
bronze one-eyed monkey-head walking-stick-handle. An image
flashed into his mind of Dorothy Philpot coming into the store
that fateful May-8th-1945 day when she’d commissioned the three
wise monkeys ornament. She’d had, that day, a walking stick so
similar in appearance to the one Robinson presently used.
All photographs and drawings of famous or rich ex-ROgraduates had been removed from the avenue to the stars. There
weren’t
even
faint
rectangles
left
to
self-testify
the
photographs or drawings had ever hung here.
‘Guess the dead house is no longer a misnomer,’ Michael
stated the obvious, many other visitors had also thought to say,
given people were self-trained, self-prepared, self-educated,
self-fashioned by society to think in pretty much the exact same
way. ‘Considering we know what really went on here, guess in
many ways, it never was?’
Robinson pushed open the dead house door. A workman was in
the process of wheeling Dorothy Philpot’s grand navy chair out
from behind her once relevant command desk. The desktop was over
eight inches thick. This was meant to ensure a visitor projected
an aura of authority onto the desk, and presumably then onto the
person who sat behind it. People felt a UE drive to bow down
before authority figures, even when such authority figures never
said anything to self-justify the position. This was really so
UE could continue to direct the course of the individuals
conscious thought patterns into self-corruption and ensure
conformity to RO-Culture. Yet, in direct contrast, people felt
the UE drive not just to belittle those with no authority, but
would do so just because the authority figure told him or her to
do so.
The workman glanced up at Robinson. ‘Nasty, aren’t they?’
‘What are?’
The workman beckoned to the bone white canes displayed in
the glass case. The canes were lined up side-by-side. They were
secured by shining brass hooks protruding from a red velvet
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
48
lining. The workman said, ‘Imagine being a young kid told to
report to the dead house! Then having to face that crazy bitch
when she had one of those wicked second hand/blooded bone things
gripped in her bony old hand! I read she used to make a ROorphan clutch the command desk. Then take his pants and
underwear down so she could abuse him for sexual satisfaction.
‘That wasn’t rite.’
Robinson stiffened. He had to now wonder what influence the
three wise monkeys ornament sitting on the command desk, and
facing a little RO-orphan kid being beaten, would have had on a
RO-orphan’s psyche? After all, the slyly grinning monkeys looked
like dead hairy children or dead fetuses? His work had added to
the evil atmosphere of the dead house, during a time when
children would have wanted to understand why they were been
beaten?
‘Yah! IT wasn’t rite,’ the guilty Robinson could only think
to say. Michael stepped up behind him. Robinson was staring at
the shining wood box with secured latches, left out on the
otherwise barren desktop. It was of course the monkeys’ coffin.
Michael flashed his FBI-credentials. ‘Come back tomorrow.
You can finish up then.’
The workman wheeled the Saint’s chair through the doorway.
Robinson asked him, ‘that wood box on the desk? Why hasn’t it
been taken away yet? It looks valuable?’
‘O yah… Looks like a kid’s idea of a treasure chest,
doesn’t it? A kid who doesn’t understand just what thieving,
raping, murderous bastards, pirates really are?’ the workman
grinned. ‘What’s in that box you wouldn’t believe! It’s an
ornament of the three wise monkeys. IT is of a standard you
couldn’t conceive… Think you’re too old to be scared by the
three wise monkeys? Think again. It was Mike out there who
packed the ornament in the box. He left it on the desk. Dorothy
Philpot kept the three wise monkeys on her desk, and facing the
door, for all who entered her head office to see. IT’s what Mike
first saw when he first entered.
‘As Mike said earlier to me, those demonic monkey things
gave Mike the creeps. He wasn’t the only one. None of us, who
came up here, could stand looking at them anytime we had to come
in here. They look like three fetuses mummified in gold. So we
put them back in their box. Worse! The thing has a lot of
blurred surfaces. IT’s as if it’s more dream than physical.
Jesus, but don’t those demonic monkey things make me fear an
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
49
unseen spiritual presence watching over us all. Makes me feel
real powerful, Dorothy Philpot is still self-haunting this
place, once her queen’s palace of such RO-woe.’
MORE LIKE HIS OWN/ED UE
OF A STANDRAD DESIGN IN EACH AND EVERY UNCONSCIOUS HUMAN MIND
AND THAT THEN INSPIRED YOU TO SCULPT THEM
THAT IN TURN MADE HIM THINK OF HIS UE CONTEMPLATING HIM
AND WISHING TO DEFINE
HIS INDEPENDENT CONSCIOUS LIFE FORCE SPIRIT
BY UE-TRAITS AND DELUSIONS, HEY ROBINSON?
‘She must have sculpted it herself. Only a sick maniac
could dream up, and take such depraved sexual pleasure in
sculpting such a filthy thing. That’s the sick thing with such
artists… that she could take such personal self-satisfaction
from making such a sick vision, physical… And we all know how
Dorothy Philpot looked on children, now don’t we? Her view of
children is Satan’s view he wishes to become fact, also betrayed
in how she sculpted her monkeys! And what she got up to with her
second hand/blooded bones and soiled underwear in her secret
L11-storage room, the Black Museum? I mean to use the excuse of
saving on wear and tear of a school uniform, just to get a kid
to take his pants and underwear down…
‘You know I read that when he was interrogated August-9TH,
Roger Madican James claimed to have confronted Dorothy Philpot
about the soiled underwear she kept in L11, the Black Museum. He
said she had been so full of arrogant hate, and the desire not
to change back to being good, she insisted on keeping the
underwear exactly where it was later found. Time and time again
she returned to reuse it, like an original dark impulse and
desire self-cultivated over the years into an all-possessive
destructive addiction. Not self-satisfied with destroying only
herself, she had to also destroy everyone around her.
‘You guys know if that’s true?’
Robinson didn’t say anything. He knew due to firsthand
personal experience it was true. There was no conscious logic
that could explain such behavior either, given hell and
damnation and being removed from the Inora-reincarnationprocesses as a self-named spiritual error could be the only end
of the line for all willfully consciously created and acted upon
DCC-made-with-UE.
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
50
‘Well, I believe IT,’ said the workman when he received no
confirmation or denial. ‘You should see how well polished that
ornament is… Fact is nobody here wants anything to do with the
ornament, now that we know something about the true evil IT
represents. Anyone who comes in here is drawn to the treasure
box… Like a curious kid lured in. I stand back. I just watch
them. When the box is opened, all expectation drains from the
face. Then they go quiet. They shut the box. They shake the
head. They don’t talk about IT.
‘Come Halloween TRICK OR TREAT is all it could ever be good
for now. Someone doesn’t give a kid candy, kid could smile real
seductive in his monster outfit. He could produce the box… Then
open it… Say it once belonged to Dorothy Philpot.’
NOBODY THINKS TO WONDER WHAT UE-DRIVE
DRIVES A KID TO WISH TO LOOK LIKE
AND PLAY THE PART OF A MONSTER EITHER
HEY MIGHTY ROBINSON?
‘It’s going to be the last thing to go from here, you can
be sure of this. Maybe like we’re going to do with the canes,
we’ll just decide to forget all about it… Leave it in the corner
to gather dust. Who in hell would want something, a crazy old
bitch used to frighten children with? Maybe some ex-RO-kids will
break in here? They can then have some fun burning the canes and
the treasure box in a Halloween fire. That’s about all the
revenge the ex-RO-orphans are capable of visiting on Dorothy
Philpot now. She got completely away with IT all, didn’t she,
decades of abuse, even if she was murdered?’
Robinson felt cold. Though it was well known Dorothy
Philpot had met a brutal end fate, no one here had any sympathy
for her. But then that was how Dorothy had wounded so many ROkids so easily. She had pretended to care about them and to be
out to see their very best interests were met. As soon as a ROkid presumed she possessed the same type of goodness as the ROkid did, she betrayed him. She beat him. She made him feel bad.
She made up lies said to be aimed to let him know what he had to
do to feel good again. Then she made up even more lies to selfjustify her evil behavior, and tried through the UE-inspired
hate/revenge-drive to reduce him to a Postmescic hell’s own/ed
stereotype/demonic joker in her own/ed mind. She had felt only
great sexual self-satisfaction in doing so, viewing kids as
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
51
being defined by evil traits alone, as nothing but animals then,
the way UE-alone viewed the human race and wished to reduce it
too.
Certainly, this was pretty much the same way Dorothy had
once tricked Robinson into sculpting the three wise monkeys
ornament for her in the first place. So it was not the case it
was some learned superstition that compelled the workmen to
avoid walking under the ladder out in the RO-engine? Rather, the
workmen had been self-taught to associate their inherent
instinctive knowledge that UE-dictated their view of World/life,
and conscious thought patterns, and as such all negative
World/life social patterns, with the superstition of not walking
under ladders for fear of creating bad luck, through subsequent
disastrous World/life events? No doubt the exceptions would be
those more defiant workmen more easily able to live with hate.
In the face of the concept of creating bad luck by walking under
the ladder, such workmen did not become conscious enough of a
DCC-made-with-UE-to temporarily break the DCC-made-with-UE,
prior the UE then striving to work to reconnect?
Robinson thought of the phrase ACTION-REACTION in Roger’s
Killian Schull essay homework. He felt trapped with no way out.
The workman noticed Robinson appeared ill. ‘WISE DEMON’S is
what I calls them. You know what the WISE DEMON’S reminds me of?
Voodoo dolls! Like those in the films you see, of a witch doctor
that sticks pins into a Voodoo doll of his human victim, to make
his human victim feel pain? Or which he uses to control a living
Zombie slave!’ the workman glanced in the direction of the
angled ladder erected in the Main-RO-Hall/RO-engine outside. IT
really was as if he feared if there was an evil force in this
RO-orphanage, then it would surely be clustered around that
ladder. There IT would be just self-waiting for someone to walk
under it, and consciously register fear, and the thought that
they could be cursed with bad luck that could then become a
self-fulfilling prophecy.
‘I to might have had my self-doubts about Dorothy Philpot
being fully bad. All self-doubts died after we found a lot of
things hidden in this place… Teenagers soiled underwear… and
those photo album volumes I gave you guys.’
‘The photo album volumes?’ Robinson was confused. He had
never heard of them.
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
52
PART 4
(OF 7-PARTS)
Robinson looked around the head office. He realized all
furnishings were long gone, expect for the desk, the chair, the
three wise monkeys’-still in their coffin-box, and the glass
case containing the second hand/Saint’s blooded bones. It was
only on this late day that the workman was in the process of
removing the chair.
‘Like I told the other guy… We took out the command desk
drawers in order to lighten the load, and so the drawers
wouldn’t slide out when the desk was being lifted. Yet even
still the desk was unnaturally heavy. Though the top is almost
nine inches thick, I just knew there had to be something else
hidden in the desk. And sure enough, when the desk was been
moved from the spot it had sat in for years, under the desktop a
small trapdoor sprang open. We found a series of hidden
compartments… and a yellowing sales catalogue advertising the
desk. It turns out, to save money, this desktop model is hollow.
The secret compartment advertised, is a sales gimmick.
‘Dorothy Philpot used the compartments to hide her photo
albums. She had so many she even had to cut up some of the
albums so they could all be tightly compacted in there. Even
when the desk is being moved, you’d never hear them moving
around in there. Like I pointed out to the other guy you sent
down for them…
‘Every single photo album has the same content. There is a
giant black and white photograph of Dorothy Philpot’s brother
David. He is standing in his swimming trunks on a beech. He is
smiling. Copies of this photograph is stuck to the inside cover
of each album. His name is printed on the photograph, David
Philpot, and his date of birth, and the date of his premature
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
53
death. There are some newspaper clippings’ about how he’d been
some genius piano playing man or something. There is also the
word EXUDUS scrawled in ink on the paper.
‘Filling every subsequent photo album page, is photographs
of naked kids in the showers. The photographs had obviously been
taken through some kind of a secret spy-hole in the wall. There
are photographs of kids asleep in their dorm beds. Someone has
eased the blankets and sheets off of them so they lay there like
the dead, so cheaply exposed.
‘I realized every kid in each photograph I looked at,
shared a likeness with Dorothy’s brother. Whether it is a smile
or a defining facial characteristic or quirk. Except for two, I
am pretty sure all of them, had the same color eyes as her
brother David. It’s true the photograph of Dorothy’s brother is
black and white. But every last kid, but two kids, had brown
eyes. So I’m betting Dorothy’s brother David also had brown
eyes. The only thing I can think to say about this is Dorothy
Philpot had unnatural sexual thoughts about her own flesh and
blood brother. She was trying to find a kid who could replace
the role her brother David once played in her life. She must
have been trying to find that kid-replacement amidst the
thousands of boys who came and went from RO.
‘You know, it’s been widely reported whenever she was out
in general population with her RO-orphans, as if obsessed,
Dorothy’s eyes never stopped sweeping the crowds. She was
relentlessly searching for the slightest flaw in immaculate
uniforms… or so IT was said. Now I’m not so sure that was the
truth. You know anything about her brother David?’
Robinson was pale faced. It appeared The Post/man had
written no lie. If Dorothy Philpot really had struck Roger
Madican James over the head with the three wise monkeys
ornament, then Dorothy would have been a firsthand witness to a
physical self-resurrection. All her beliefs and self-doubts
concerning the next-World/life, and there being a division
between this physical World/life and the spiritual World/life,
would have sundered. What was arrogance and rational thinking,
but conscious denial? What was conscious denial, but inventing
lies to self-justify moral bankruptcy UE-was out to maintain?
DID SHE CONTINUOUSLY AND DEVOTELY PRAY TO THE REAL-DEVIL
FOR HER BROTHER DAVID’S SAFE RETURN
FROM THE OTHER SIDE OF THE SO EARTHLY GRAVE, I WONDER?
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
54
DID SHE WANT A LOVER?
HA! HA!! HE! HE!!
ROGER WROTE IN HIS KILLIAN SCHULL ESSAY HOMWORK
UE EXPLOITS THE PRIMAL NEEDS AND DRIVES UE IS THE SUM OF
IN ORDER TO SELF-RESURRECT
SHALLOW END
TRUE-INDEPENDENT-CONSCIOUS-SELF-MISLEADING BYPRODUCT OF UEEVIL-INSPIRED FANTASIES INTO A CONSCIOUS MIND
TO BE THEN CONSCIOUSLY CULTIVATED AND ACTED UPON
IN WAKING REALITY
SO THE CONSCIOUS HUMAN MIGHT BE CONTROLLED
BY THE SHALLOW END
TRUE-INDEPENDENT-CONSCIOUS-SELF-MISLEADING BYPRODUCT
OF UE-CAMOUFLAGE
SELF-DESIGNED TO ENSURE THE UE-AGENDA-ALONE MIGHT BE COMPLETED
AND THE CONSCIOUS LIFE FORCE SPIRIT DESTROYED
IN THE NAME OF RECREATING THE POSTMESCIC MIND GOD?
HA! HA!! HE! HE!!
DOROTHY PHILPOT THOUGHT THE MOST EVIL-PURPOSE SERVING
AND MOST PATHETIC AND IGNORANT AND STUPID THING
IN REACTION TO STANDARD WORLD/LIFE EVENTS
EVERYONE HAS TO GO THROUGH
AND SO IN THE FACE OF HELL AND DAMNATION AND UNIVERSAL TRUTH
AND PHYSICAL RESURRECTIONS AND POWERS
THAT’S ALL DOROTHY PHILPOT COULD COME UP WITH
AS HER PERSONAL LOT AND BAG OF EXCUSES TO DO EVIL
THAT IS HER THOUGHTS…
SUMMONING LUST AND TRYING TO SATISFY IT WITH HER BROTHER DAVID?
THAT WAS HER GREAT DREAM
SECOND HAND/BLOODED BONES AND DIRTY RO-ORPHANS UNDERWEAR
STUCK UP HER CUNT AND ASS
AND SHE ACTUALLY THOUGHT
SHE WAS ONLY DOING WHAT SHE WANTED TO DO AND WAS GOOD FOR HER?
HA! HA!! HE! HE!!
AND SHE CALLED A MOST WISE WOMAN OF HER TIMES
WHO SURE DOES KNOW A LOT?
ENOUGH TO LAUGH AT HOW TALENTLESS AND IGNORANT
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
55
ROGER MADICAN JAMES WAS
AND TO PROCLAIM HIS KILLIAN SCHULL ESSAY WAS GARBAGE?
HA! HA!! HE! HE!!
‘David Philpot was drunk. His friends
staggered off. He fell asleep. Or else he
back street alleyway. The end result was the
was winter. He froze to death. He probably
awake before he died,’ Robinson said icily.
assaulted
passed out
same either
never even
him. He
in some
way. It
stirred
THAT’S ALL THE GREAT AND MOST WISE RO-CULTURE WOMAN
DORTOHY PHILPOT COULD MAKE OUT OF THE CONCEPT OF DEATH
AND WHAT IT ALL REALLY MEANS?
HA! HA!! HE! HE!!
‘Guess she didn’t want to face the failed mess her
World/life really became,’ said Michael Riordan. He had been
standing in silence in the background, simply observing.
‘I’m Catholic,’ the workman said. ‘You mean she was like
one of those people, who get so angry if you contradict their
opinions and beliefs? I see your point. Deep down they
instinctively fear they can be self-judged in death, for their
rotten ideas and lives, and so try to drag all others down with
them, rather than change.’
‘Well I guess it’s academic now. For Dorothy is long dead
and gone. If she was to be self-judged, she has been!’ Robinson
felt very uneasy. An ugly image of Dorothy’s Reason busted
corpse flashed into his mind.
BUT IS IT REALLY ALL JUST ACADEMIC NOW ROBINSON
OR IS THAT JUST WHAT YOU LIKE TO TELL YOUR SELF?
RO WAS PROCLAIMED A GREAT SCHOOL OF HIGHER LEARNING
AND TOUGHEST STANDARDS WHERE NO PUNCHES WERE PULLED…
WHERE ORPHANS WERE SENT TO LEARN THE GREATEST WISDOM OF THE DAY…
‘You know my sister Niamh works in a State Nuthouse on Bull
Street?’ the workman, who had just been using his UE to selfjudge Dorothy, now looked confused and guilty. ‘She tells me,
you can be sure there’s plenty of people like Dorothy Philpot.
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
56
Every last one of them is nuts and nuts alone. But that’s no
excuse mind you… No excuse at all for what she became!’
IT was just typical. Robinson brooded for a second time
today. People, rather than admit to the existence of great evil
created by World/life society, and that ran everyday society,
tried to blame everything on mindless and incomprehensible
insanity, as if society, and the way people in society conducted
his and her self and chose to think, and the beliefs, man made
laws and ways of conduct of the land, was not directly
responsible in anyway for crimes and murders, and did not
constitute insanity in itself.
YOU NOW KNOW IN YOUR GUT FOR SURE, DON’T YOU ROBINSON
THAT THIS DOROTHY PHILPOT BUSINESS IS FAR FROM THROUGH WITH YOU
AND WILL BE SOON COMING BACK TO SELF-HAUNT YOU!
LITERALLY!
The workman was heading out the open dead house doorway. He
pushed the chair across the course and tile-less RO-engine. When
the casters got caught in the cement groves, and started to
swivel in completely different directions as if fighting not to
leave the head office, he had to shove hard just to force the
chair over them.
‘Two more things before you go?’ Robinson shouted after
him. The workman looked back over his shoulder. ‘Who were the
two RO-orphans she took photographs of who didn’t have brown
eyes?’ Michael Riordan had folded his arms. It was obvious to
Robinson that Michael had decided to remain silent, too full of
a cold dread to try to interfere.
‘O rite,’ the workman said quietly. He somehow looked selfsatisfied, smug and amused. ‘The green eyed, and the blue eyed
kids? But surely you know who those two RO-orphans are?’
‘Roger Madican James for one?’
‘Yah. At first I thought this was strange, given IT was
Roger who ultimately killed her. But she had endless photo album
pages filled with photographs of Roger, while he was sleeping,
or in the showers, or out doing physical exercise in his shorts…
or simply walking through, or standing perfectly still and all
on his own in the yard clasping his rite hand over his left
wrist… as if a small kid who wanted his mother to hold his hand.
Or, in the queerest photograph, strong ropes secured Roger to a
bed for some sadistic reason-no doubt. There are endless copies
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
57
of each photograph featuring Roger. I can just picture her, with
her dirty orphan’s underwear, and photographs, and viewing him
as a sexual object.’
‘And the second RO-orphan?’ Robinson half hoped it would
turn out to be The Post/man. If so, maybe a lot of time might be
saved?
The workman frowned. Shouldn’t Robinson already know all of
this, he seemed to be thinking. ‘Dorothy wrote the RO-orphan’s
name and all of his personal details down on a page she stuck on
the back cover of the photo album she kept exclusively for him.
I thought this strange. I heard Dorothy remembered everything.
Maybe these details excited Dorothy so much she needed to read
them over and over again, just to come to terms with the
reality. Certainly, the details were underlined many times… And
in different colors to reflect how many times she went to read
them, and with different pens… Maybe she felt she was on the
verge of realizing some crazy, but once repressed dream,
concerning the spiritual that in reality became her madness?’
‘His name?’
‘Charles Edward Damien. His nickname… crazy dead eye…’
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
58
PART 5
(OF 7-PARTS)
‘Damien’s a good-looking, but cunning-looking guy. There’s
a crazy gleam to his bright emerald green eyes. Given what
Dorothy wrote about him, the crazy gleam didn’t surprise me.
I’m very glad he looks so cunning. I figure he has some hope of
surviving her and this dreadful place of RO-woe of hers. Dorothy
circled one fact about him over and over again in different
colored ink… That Dorothy Philpot…’
HE! HE!!
AUGUST-9TH–1964, IN THE UNDERGROUND JAILHOUSE
YOU FIRST ENVISIONED THE THREE WISE MONKEYS
CRASHING DOWN ON ROGER’S CROWN
AND THEN THIS CHARLES EDWARD DAMIEN THING
USING A BLACK RO-SCHOOL BELT TO STANGLE ROGER IN LEE’S BARN…
PRIOR TO YOU EXPLAINING TO YOURSELF
THE RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN MURDER AND SUICIDE
AND SO CONSCIOUSLY DECODING YOURSELF
SO WHOLY FREE OF IT’S INSPIRED DELUSIONS
AND SO YOU STOPPED YOURSELF FROM SHOOTING PATRICK WATKINS
DEAD-IN-THE HEAD
IN ORDER TO AID ROGER’S PHYSICAL ESCAPE
FROM THE UNDERGROUND JAILHOUSE!
DORTOHY PHILPOT WILL BE BACK TO SELF-HAUNT YOU YET
SO MIGHTY ROBINSON
BY SLYLY WICKED TURNING WAY OF SHE HAVING TWISTED UGLY
CRZAY DEAD EYE CHARLES EDWARD DAMIEN’S MIND…
FOR YOU KNOW FULL WELL…
YOU’RE NOW TO BE EXPOSED AGAIN AS A SECOND RATE LAWMAN
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
59
ALWAYS TAKING THE EASIEST OPTION
IN REACTION TO ANY WORLD/LIFE EXPERIENCES THAT COME YOUR WAY…
WORLD/LIFE EXPERIENCES I MAY ADD
THAT ARE PRETTY MUCH OF A STANDARD DESIGN
FOR EACH HUMAN BEING
GIVEN IT IS COLLECTIVE HUMANITY
THAT SELF-CREATE SUCH WORLD/LIFE EXPERIENCES
FOR HE AND SHE TO THEN REACT TO
AND AS SUCH ARE A TYPE OF WORLD/LIFE EXPERIENCE
ALL HUMANS ARE CONSTANTLY SUBJECTED TO
AND DECIDE TO USE THE STANDARD SO-CALLED GREAT WISDOM OF THE DAY
TO EXPLIAN ALL THE INS AND OUTS OF
THE WORLD/LIFE EXPERIENCE TO HIS OR HER SELF…
AND EACH EXPLANATION
SUCH A SHALLOW
TRUE-INDEPENDENT-CONSCIOUS-SELF-MISLEADING LIE AND DELUSION!
‘Had IT anything to do with Damien’s half sister Deirdre,
committing suicide when she jumped off a toy-store rooftop?’
Robinson blurted out. Usually Robinson never volunteered
information unless he wished to string a civilian along for an
alternative agenda. This time his unprofessional behavior
reflected no alternative agenda.
‘Yah?’ the workman asked in surprise. ‘Damien’s sister
really did that? No wonder… But no, that wasn’t the fact.
Apparently,
Damien
confessed
to
Dorothy,
his
so
wicked
stepfather Frank Damien, raped Deirdre quiet frequently. It
turned Damien on sexually. Did Dorothy ever report such a crime
to you guys?’
‘No! She didn’t! I’ll want all those photo albums,’
Robinson said. ‘Where are they?’
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
60
PART 6
(OF 7-PARTS)
‘Didn’t I already tell you? We’ve turned the photo albums
over to the proper authorities in the State police.’
Robinson cursed Patrick Watkins for not telling Robinson
about this so recent development. Yet Robinson had made it clear
to Watkins in no uncertain terms that Robinson was not letting
go of this most particular World/life case. As such he wished to
be made privy to all new details and developments concerning the
case.
‘When?’
‘As soon as we found them, three or four days ago. We rang
up the State police… I’m not sure of the date. But I do know
that an officer Derek Dobbin arrived in person to collect them.
He was a good guy…’ The workman frowned. He had noted Robinson’s
strong reaction. ‘O, he was a real cop all right… genuine
article, all credentials, and strictly by the book.’
‘No,’ Robinson said in a self-distracted manner. He was not
really thinking about what he was saying. ‘I was thinking of
someone else.’ He would get onto Patrick Watkins about this as
soon as he finished up here. ‘Listen very carefully to the
question I am now about to ask you! You say this Charles Edward
Damien admitted to Dorothy Philpot, he was sexually turned on by
the thought of his half-sister Deirdre been raped?’
‘If you can believe anything that woman wrote down? But
yes, I’m one hundred percent positive. Dorothy wrote down Damien
told her it was only after the incident, when his sister ran
into his bedroom, naked and crying and bleeding the night she
was raped for the first time, Damien got his first erection he
was conscious of. Then he saw some blood on his pajamas crotch.
Why he told Dorothy I don’t know?’
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
61
MORE LIKE WHY DID POSTMESCIC-IT WANT DAMIEN TO TELL HER SO?
USING DOROTHY PHILPOT AS THE MEDIUM
WHAT IDEAS AND CONCEPTS
DID POSTMESCIC-IT WISH TO MAKE CONSCIOUS-DAMIEN CONSCIOUS OF
HO, HO!
MERRY CHRISTMAS!
FOR WHAT ALTERNATIVE PURPOSE
WHILE DAMIEN WAS SUFFERING ADMIST CONSTANT RO-WOE?
‘Makes me wonder, what type of sick conversation they must
have had to begin down that road of confessing such sordid
things to each other. For all I know, maybe Dorothy used
Damien’s guilt to fill his head with all of her sick ideas about
incest? Or got to him when he was week, and upset, and ready to
confess? Why this Damien would tell his dirty little secret to
Dorothy Philpot, of all possible people, is anyone’s guess? He
should have known she’d just use it as an excuse to get him in
yet another way. I’m telling you only what I read.’
The change in mood, and the coldly staring lawmen, and this
horrid little earthly subject matter, was most obviously the
cause of the workman becoming filled with guilt.
‘IT beats me!’ the workman said. ‘Just like the story my
mother used to tell us about the secondhand Persian carpet she
bought in town one day.’
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
62
PART 7
(OF 7-PARTS)
The workman instantly feared that Robinson would figure out
that he had thieved Dorothy Philpot’s carpet-rug that had lain
before, and just under her great big command desk. The carpet
had fascinated him. The complex designs were so complex they
seemed to have no beginning or end. They all just seemed to blur
into, and out of each other. Now realizing he had nearly
confessed his crime, he focused on his mother’s story, hoping to
misdirect suspicion.
‘The Persian carpet my mother bought was obsessively handwoven with complex interconnecting designs. It used to belong to
a saintly Iranian Muslim. He was seen praying on it in public
four times a day before he died. He had woven the carpet as a
representation of his dedication and love for God. The carpet
was shipped off to America, to be sold to some citizen who
didn’t know any better. The Muslim’s fellow Muslims wouldn’t use
that carpet out of respect. Every time the Persian carpet got
dirty in our house, my mother used to hang it outside on the
clothesline. She claimed the Devil would come during the night.
He’d be looking for evidence of the Muslim’s mortality, and
moral and spiritual decay in that carpet. But all that darn
Devil could beat out of that carpet was common American
household dust. The Muslim was secure in his place in heaven.
This was the reason my mother told us, we always had a brand
new, clean carpet come morning.
‘That’s how my mother started to get me to tell the truth,
so I’d never leave any evidence of lies behind me, or have dark
thoughts during prayers… Because as a young kid my mother had me
believing the Devil could show up after my mortal death, looking
for, and still capable of finding evidence of sin I had left
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
63
behind me on this Earth… so he could pluck me out of my rightful
place in heaven. They say the Devil never forgets a soul he
fails to corrupt, even after that soul’s gone beyond to a better
place. It’s the souls gone on to a better place the Devil most
obsesses about!’
MORE LIKE RO-ORPHANS NEVER FORGET A SOUL WHO ESCAPES EVIL…
‘You sure you don’t know anything else?’ asked Robinson.
TIGHTLY WOVEN DUSTED FABRIC…
NOTHING IS AN ACCIDENT ROBINSON…
YOU’LL SOON SEE…
‘Positive!’ the workman said. ‘Look! I gave everything I
found, and told everything I know, to officer Dobbin! Is it my
fault you guys get your wires crossed?’
MORE LIKE THE WIRING IN THE BRAIN
HOOKING UP THE WRONG THOUGHT PATTERNS…
IN ORDER TO MISLEAD ALL…
Robinson opened his notebook. He took down the workman’s
name and address, home and work telephone numbers. He asked for
similar World/life details for the other workman who’d been here
when the photo albums had been first unearthed. Only then did he
send the workman on his way.
The workman left looking both guilty and afraid.
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
64
3
(IN 2-PARTS)
PART 1
(OF 2-PARTS)
The workman was gone. Robinson closed the dead house door,
blocking out the sight of the RO-engine just outside. He ignored
the inscriptions in the gold plates, one plate above, and the
other plate under the small mirror…
FOR GOD’S SAKE, SEE YOURSELF AS RIVERSTEM ORPHANAGE SEES
YOU! ARE YOU STILL PROUD?
Instead, he approached the monkeys’ coffin. He laid his
walking stick against the desk. The one-eyed monkey-head-brazed
top caught on the desk edge. It stopped the walking stick from
falling sideways and down. He guessed he had sculpted the monkey
with one eye, because Robinson was beginning to see the truth
for the first time, but not the complete picture.
He undid the latches. He opened the coffin lid. The shining
three wise monkeys lay cocooned in the red velvet lining. If he
had expected to find evidence of some innocent kid sculptor
here, he had been sorely mistaken. The three wise monkeys
appeared more hideous and striking than even he remembered them
since last he’d seen them on the day he’d unearthed Dorothy
Philpot’s Reason busted remains from Old Man Anderson’s grave
bed. He understood it had to be that the box’s red velvet lining
had inspired Dorothy to line her glass case with red velvet, to
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
65
contrast against the bone white second hand/Saint’s blooded
bones the glass case contained.
The three wise monkeys had sunken faces. The evil glint to
the eyes, and the cruel smiles manipulated by narrow lips, and
the pointed demonic ears, and clawed paws, all self-conspired to
suggest to a viewer the three wise monkeys were meant to be
mocking even their own/ed murders. It did not matter which
feature a monkey used his paws to hide. Enough of the feature
was clear to ensure with the other monkeys’ features as a frame
of reference, a vivid image was created of just one too-same
monkey prototype. Yet suddenly, he was picturing six monkeys in
all. IT was as if the monkeys’ spirits were self-aligned with
the three deformed corpses.
HOW RITE YOU ARE
IN THIS IT’S DEAD HOUSE REAL-DEVIL’S PLAYGROUND!
TAKE NOTE GENTLE AND SO DESPAIRING AND COWARDLY LISTENER
FOR THE POST/MAN DID NOT WRITE FOR NOTHING
AS UE AND IG ARE OF A STANDARD DESIGN
IN EACH AND EVERY UNCONSCIOUS HUMAN MIND
STYLE THEN IS WHAT SECURE-CONSCIOUS-LOGIC
A UNIQUE AND FLEXIBLE AND INDEPENDENT CONSCIOUS MIND
HAS USED THE TRULY-IMMORTAL-CONSCIOUS-SOUL
TO WORK OUT ABOUT THE UNCONSCIOUS INTELLECTS
OF A STANDARD DESIGN
AND BUILD WITHIN THE SELF-ENCAPSULATED AND SELF-GOVERNED
CONSCIOUS-SPHERE…
…UE RAIZED THOUGHTS ARE THE ESSENTIAL CORE THOUGHT-MACHINERY
OF THE CONSCIOUS LIFE DEFEATING
AND SOUL-PATTERN-RUPTURING UE-WORKS
AROUND WHICH ACTION/REACTION
ALL CONSCIOUS THOUGHTS ARE THEN ALL BUILT UP AROUND
SO IT’S SO-DRAMATIC LITTLE HUMAN WORLD/LIFE
MAY KEEP ON TURNING UPON IT’S AXIS OF EVIL
AND THE SIX DIVINED PLAYERS ARE THE SIX SELF-FRACTURED PARTS
AND THE SUM OF
AND AS SUCH THE TRUE SONS
OF THE SEVENTH, SELF-MIRRORING, ROGER MADICAN JAMES
GAME-PLAYING, POSTMESCIC-MAN!
AND YET COME THE END OF ALL TRULY MORTAL WORLDLY DAYS
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
66
WHEN IT’S WHOLE HUMAN WORLD/LIFE HAS FINALLY BEING RUN AMUCK
AND ALL SIX GAME PLAYING SONS ARE FINALLY READY AND
SELF-TRAINED, SELF-PREPARED, SELF-EDUCATED, SELF-STYLED ENOUGH
ONLY ONE CHOSEN SON WILL BE SET TO ARISE FOR THE NUT-JOB
TO FINALLY CROWN THE POSTMESCIC-MIND-GOD
IN THE FORGED-CONSCIOUS-ROGER/POSTMESCIC-FATHER’S ABSENCE…
YOU STILL IN CONSTRUCTION HERE
HEAR THIS NOW
POSTMESCIC/REASON-INSPIRED-CANCER-RIDDLED
WORK/HORSE OF THE GOOD PLAYERS
FARMBOY THREE WISE MONKEYS MAKER
LAWMAN, FAT COP, LAW-BREAKER, MIGHTY ROBINSON…
FOR THIS RITE HERE IS YOUR VERY OWN/ED
SELF-JUSTIFYING, SELF-MOTIVATING
PERSONAL GEORGE IRA ROBINSON LOGO
FROM THIS POINT ON…
IN THESE THREE WISE MONKEYS SEE THIS MESSAGE NOW…
THREE DEMONIC JOKER/POSTMESCIC HELL’S OWN/ED STEREOTYPES…
…DAMNED SPIRITS
MERE GHOSTLY SELF-PARODIES
OF THEIR FORMER MORTAL/CONSCIOUS SELVES
NOW THAT THEY ARE DEFINED SOLELY BY EVIL-TRAITS
AND ARISEN OUT OF DEAD CHILDREN
SPIRITUALLY SELF-MURDERED BY THEIR OWN/ED WILFUL HANDS
AT CONSTANT PLAY WITH THE WORKS OF THE UE-DEAD ALONE!
ALL PROPER LAWS AND RESTRICTIONS
ALL BLURRED AND BENT JUSTLY FOR YOU…
ONE SUCH DIVINED-SON
OF THE SEVENTH, SELF-MIRRORING, ROGER MADICAN JAMES
GAME PLAYING, POSTMESCIC-MAN…
YES ROBINSON, DESPITE IT ALL, YOU-STILL HERE
HEAR-THIS-FIXED AND PROPER POSTMESCIC SPIRITUAL LAW NOW
JUSTLY DIVINED AND DELIVERED UP TO YOU
BY WAY OF I, THE TRUE SO VERY EVIL-SOUL
OF YOUR OWN/ED PRIMAL-BODY-OF-UE-MIND!
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
67
IN THIS SCULPTURE OF THREE PHYSICAL
AND DUE TO THE AID OF UE-JUDGMENTS
THREE SPIRITUAL PARTS
IN EVERY CROOKED CORNER AND BLURRED SLANT AND LUMPY SLOPE
IS THE WHOLE FINAL DAMNATION GAME BLUEPRINT
ALL LAID OUT FOR YOU SO BLUE
SO YOU MAY NEVER AGAIN BE ABLE TO DENY IT!
THREE DEAD CORPSES GIVING RISE TO THREE DAMNED SPIRITS
THAT ARE THE COMPLETED SUM
OF THE SIX DIVINED SONS/SELF-FRACTURED PARTS
OF THE SEVENTH SELF-MIRRORING, ROGER MADICAN JAMES
DAMNATION GAME PLAYING, POSTMESCIC-MAN
THAT WILL MARK THE TRUE AND FINAL END
OF THIS WHOLE AND UNHOLY GAME…
SIX-PLAYERS AS IF THREE PARODYING THREE…
SIX-PLAYERS TWO PLAY ON BEHALF OF-ALL
SIX PLAYERS TWO LOSE TWO ON BEHALF OF-ALL…
AS SOON AS ALL SIX DO FALL TO SELF-CORRUPTION
AS IF ALWAYS THE ORIGINAL THREE…
AND ONLY ONE CONSCIOUS SON
TO THEN ARIZE UPON THE POSTMESCIC MIND GOD’S SIX-POINTED CROWN…
YES ROBINSON, IN THE SAINT’S HEAD OFFICE
AND YOUR CHILDHOOD AS A MERE FARMBOY REVISITED
UNKNOWN TO YOUR OWN/ED SELF
YOU WERE SELECTED ALL THOSE YEARS AGO MAY-8TH-1945
WHEN YOU WERE JUST TURNED UNLUCKY THIRTEEN
WHO UNKNOWN TO YOURSELF
SELECTED YOUR SELF THE MAIN WORK/HORSE OF
AND THE TEMPORARY-ADOPTED-SPIRITUAL-DREAM-FATHER
OF THE OTHER TWO GOOD PLAYERS
THE MOMENT YOU LAID YOUR DIVINING WORK/HORSE HANDS
TO FASHIONING THE THREE WISE MONKEYS
FOR THE COMMISSIONING SAINT
SO YOU MIGHT PROVE IN BLIND EYED MONKEY FATE
AND WITHOUT PROPER DEFINITIONS
THAT EVIL IS ALWAYS WRONG
AND IS OF NO REAL EARTHLY OR LONGSTANDING WORTH
IN REGARD TO ANY HUMAN EVER KNOWING ANY REAL GAIN
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
OUT OF DEALING AND
WHERE THE HUMAN IS
BUT THE CONCEPT OF
IN THE UE-CAULDRON
68
HAGGLING WITH IT
LIKE A BLIND WITCH BLINDED TO ALL OF REALITY
THE TRUE-SPELL CAST
SHE CANNOT EVEN SEE…
YES ROBINSON, THIS IS THE ONLY TRUE FORTUNE TELLER’S GAME
LONG SET IN CONSTANT MOTION
BUT IS A GAME ALL LONG FORESEEN
AND IT TO RUN YOU SIX DIVINED SONS ALL INTO THE GROUND
WHEN THOSE THREE SELECTED AND DIVINED BY INORA-MIND-GOD-HEAVEN
AND THOSE THREE SELECTED
AND DIVINED BY THE STATE/MIND POSTMESCIC/EMBODIMENT-HELL
TO EVENLY BEAR ALL THE WORLD/LIFE’S BURDENS
UPON THEIR SO NARROW SHOULDERS
WILL BE BLESSED TO WALK EQUALLY PHYSICALLY-UNHARMED
THROUGH EVERY HAZARDOUS WORLD/LIFE SITUATION
THAT CAN EVER BE KNOWN
AND WILL BE BLESSED TO DEFY ALL KNOWN WORLD/LIFE ODDS
THIS ENTIRE EARTHLY WORLD/LIFE CAN EVER SUMMON OR MUSTER
FROM ANY RESOURCES
WITHIN THE CONFINES OF AN ENTIRE UNIVERSE
GOVERNED BY PRESET SPIRTUAL LAWS AND LIMITED MORTAL RESOURCES
NO MATTER EVEN IF THE EARTH’S CRUST SHOULD CLEAVE
AND TWIST IN TWO
AND THE SUN BOIL THE SEAS
REFLECTING THE MOON THEN FALLING EARTH BOUND
YOU SIX GAME PLAYING SON’S WILL PHYSICALLY-SURVIVE…
AND THIS MIRACULOUS WORLD/LIFE SITUATION
WILL ALWAYS BE THE STATUS QUO
UNTIL ALL SIX GAME PLAYING SONS’
ARE AS IF ALWAYS THE ORIGINAL THREE
BY THEIR OWN/ED MIND’S DECIDING HOW AND WHAT THEY GAMBLE
UNTIL THE ULTIMATE CLOSURE OF SIMPLY ALL…
BUT THIS IS NOT ALL YOU HAVE ALREADY WON, ROBINSON…
FOR COME THAT DAY OF COMPLETE MORTAL-WORLD/HOUSE CLOSURE
IT IS YOUR NATURAL THREE WISE MONKEYS-MAKING
WORK/HORSE BIRTH-RITE
THEN TO BE NOT LIKE
BUT AN ACTUAL MORTAL GOD, ROBINSON
SHOULD YOU DARE TO CHOOSE…
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
69
TO LOOSE ALL FATE IN ALL OF CONSCIOUS-HUMANITY
AND IN THE BAGAIN
CLAIM THE EARTHLY WORLD/LIFE AS YOUR HOME GROUND
YOU HOLD COMPLETE DOMINION OVER…
AS THE CONSCIOUS CROWN NUT JOB
RAISED UP UPON THE POSTMESCIC-MIND-GOD…
POSTMESCIC/REASON-INSPIRED-CANCER RIDDLED
TEMPORARILY-ADOPTED-SPIRITUAL-DREAM-FATHER OF
THE TWO OTHER GOOD PLAYERS
AND THE MAIN WORK/HORSE WITHIN THE TRINITY
THAT CONSITUTES THE THREE GOOD PLAYERS, ROBINSON
FARMBOY THREE WISE MONKEYS, AND LAWMAN, MAN MADE LAW MAKER/
LAW BREAKER…
ALWAYS REMEMBER THIS PROMISE NOW MADE ONLY TO SO, SO SPECIAL YOU
WHEN YOU GO FORTH FROM HERE AS THE SYMBOLIC WORK/HORSE
OF THE THREE GOOD PLAYERS
TO SURVIVE WHAT MORTAL WORLD/LIFE EVENT/CIRCUMSTANCES
NO OTHER PETTY MORTAL MAN COULD DARE TO HOPE TO SURVIVE
EVEN WHEN ASLEEP AND IN A FANCIFUL DREAM LAND…
UNLESS OF COURSE HE IS ONE OF
THE SIX DIVINED SONS/SELF-FRACTURING PARTS
OF THE SEVENTH, SELF-MIRRORING AND GAME PLAYING, POSTMESCIC-MAN
AND AS SUCH STILL IN CONSTRUCTION AS A GAME PLAYING MAN…
BUT FOR SURE, AS IF YOU HAVE STOLEN ALL THE LUCK
ALL OTHERS AROUND YOU WILL HAVE TO DIE…
LIKE UNEXPECTED HURRICANE AND THUNDEROUS STORM
ARISING OUT OF THE BLUE TO RUIN THE HARD WORKED FARMLAND
WORLD/LIFE EVENT/CIRCUMSTANCES BETWEEN THE GOOD AND THE BAD
DID CLASH
AND INSPIRATION DID FLASH
AND YOU THE MERE FARMBOY DID FASHION THE THREE WISE MONKEYS…
BUT NOW I YOUR OWN/ED PRIMAL-BODY-OF-UE-MIND DOES WONDER
WHAT DID YOU DO WITH THE COMMISSIONING SAINT’S MONEY
PAID TO YOU?
HOW MUCH WAS IT YOU PUT IN THE CHURCH’S OLD POOR BOX?
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
70
‘Those really the things you sculpted before I knew you? Do
those creepy neat freaks really belong to you?’ Michael Riordan
asked incredulously.
‘No,’ Robinson said. ‘And they never really did. I was too
young to know any better…’ He closed and locked the three wise
monkeys’ coffin box. He decided to abandon the monkeys’ coffin
here in the bare dead house. Memory now, and retrospection,
would be what would convey to him all dark truths these demonic
monkeys’ really represented in this IT’s damnation game.
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
71
PART 2
(OF 2-PARTS)
Robinson felt too spiritually and physically sick to speak.
He was walking in silence with Michael Riordan towards C-Sector,
5W, PR/W1 and PR/W2, located so close to the old RO-sickbay. The
evening light darkened. The wheels of the lift truck squeaked
loudly as they were rolled across the lumpy concrete floor.
‘You anxious or something?’ Robinson realized Michael was
imitating him by walking in an unnerving silence.
‘It’s what that workman said about the Voodoo doll back in
the dead house,’ Michael said.
‘What about it?’
‘After the incident in that underground jailhouse… and I in
my hospital bed going over The Post/man’s letters for a second
time… and I remembering you telling me about so many of the ROrumors concerning how Roger Madican James either broke through
the ropes securing him to his 5B-bed… or had cut the ropes
before hand… I was thinking about human possession.
‘Well anyway, there was this guy under me, Agent Alex
Mason. He visited me. I remembered he was once a solider
stationed in Haiti. So I ask him about it. People over there are
more open to belief in this Voodoo stuff. Anyway, Mason said
while he was stationed over there, he observed, rather than
attended, a festival… It may have been the festival of Ezili.
‘During a ceremony, certain human members of the audience
are chosen to be possessed. The possessed human-subject is known
as the Deity’s horse, a cheval. The Deity that possesses the
human subject is said to mount his human-horse. How this horse
terminology got started over there I have no idea. By the end of
the possession, the horse, the human subject, is presumed to
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
72
have no memory of the experience. Mason asked a native woman why
she believed in possession. You know what she told him?’
‘How could I?’
‘Seek to know where you come from! Seek to know where
you’re going! Because it’s our tradition!
‘The whole thing chilled Mason. He got out of there, back
to a familiar World/life environment he felt he understood, and
so where he felt safe.’
Robinson
remembered
the
day
Dorothy
Philpot
had
commissioned the three wise monkeys. Inspired by nothing but
mindless UE-inspired spite and the hate/revenge to give out
nothing but insults and never any compliments, she had invented
criticisms for the sculpture of the bucking stallion trying to
throw its rider off its back. Wrong in her very word and action
even way back then, she had sneered because the cowboy had been
looking skyward. The cowboy had been concentrating on trying to
stay on the horse, and showing no fear of the potentially fatal
fall. This, at least according to Dorothy, was something no real
cowboy would do. Unless of course the cowboy represented what
was already dead, and so had no fear of mortal death? While the
bucking stallion represented George Robinson-just as he had told
Dorothy Philpot it had, and he cursed to be marked down as the
first GOOD SON PLAYER to lose the DAMNATION GAME, as soon as he
allowed his conscious mind to be defined by UE-judgments,
characteristics, traits and thoughts.
Dorothy Philpot had also said no one would see the buckling
stallion as a self-portrait of George, other than George
himself. Whatever he was presuming about his artwork, the
complete reverse was the truth. Yet now, here today, he had
learned that no less than an entire country, and an ancient
culture would have immediately recognized what the artwork had
really meant, and represented-a true self-portrait of George
Robinson at that early time in his World/life and what he had
been going through internally, and how he related back to the
larger scheme of things… A true profound work of art then,
reflecting he trying to throw a spiritual evil off of his back.
He felt yet another surge of rage when he thought of his
failed career in art. He had been one of the best, misled and
cheated by a failed human World/life that celebrated failures
and the work of failures alone. No doubt Dorothy Philpot had
been counting on this, that her evil-purpose-serving comments
would come back to self-haunt him with rage that destroyed all
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
73
rational thought and blocked pure inspiration, when UE reenacted
the essential ethos and spirit of the memory of Dorothy Philpot
criticizing him when he later realized she’d been deliberately
out to sabotage him and lie to him and to raise unconscious evil
rage aimed to attack his unique sense of conscious self.
He really had no idea in what he was now trying to near
eternally meddle around in. The faster he accepted as a
conscious mind he was an ignorant buffoon who knew nothing at
all about anything, the better off he’d be. But then he’d always
known for a person to make a defining statement on any subject,
such as the Saint and Pete Davie had done everyday in even still
operational RO-woe, he or she were in effect saying that on that
single subject, he or she knew how it related to every single
thing in universal creation, and how it had come into existence,
and why. Obviously absurd, but that was the human World/life for
you. Willful self-deception backed up by a mindless UE-inspired
hate/revenge-drive was enough inspiration for any third-rate
garbage/mental vomit to be taken seriously. By now all that was
obvious, was not even conscious Dorothy Philpot had known why
she had been self-inspired to insult his sculpture of the
bucking stallion, just prior to she commissioning the ornament
of the three wise monkeys.
Equally, the farm boy kid George Ira Robinson had, had no
idea of what type of forces of darkness he had so blindly, and
in complete conscious ignorance, channeled into him when making
the three wise monkeys ornament.
‘What do you think about that?’ Michael asked.
‘What do I know?’ Robinson shrugged his shoulders.
‘Certainly, UE, and IG, can act as interpretative mediators
capable of conveying messages on behalf of external spiritual
entities. The very fact that IG, UE and the soul exist has to be
reflective of something else in itself. Perhaps the things that
possessed the people attending the festival of Ezili in Haiti,
used whatever root it is, unconscious intellects use to raise
thoughts into a self-contained conscious sphere. Only these
people let go, and welcome the forces out to replace the ground
in the mind where consciousness sits as master when maintaining
control over the physical body. If so, then I’ve no idea where
the conscious intellect is relegated to during the possession.
‘Or maybe it’s simply that UE or IG or the soul take them
over. I only know, I want to believe consciousness always has to
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
74
first give some sort of permission, prior that takeover. I’ll
only think about IT because I’ve got no other choice.’
The two men reached the hall of permanent-RO-records. The
squeaking forklift wheels rolled to a silent halt. Robinson felt
relieved when he tried the handle. The door was securely locked.
The external bolt was safeguarded with a padlock, exactly as he
had left it last August-the day he’d discovered Dorothy
Philpot’s Reason-busted corpse out in the old slave cemetery on
the RO-grounds. If only the padlock secured the door, then the
door rattled when the handle was turned, and then pushed and
pulled. The term hall was a misnomer. The hall was a solid room,
with no windows or exits, other than this one door.
He removed two keys from his pocket. He inserted one key
into the keyhole. It felt strange to think he was the first
person with the man made legal authority to enter the hall,
since the night of the murder Roger Madican James had entered to
steel some RO-files, only to discover Dorothy Philpot had since
taken them to her Head Office. Upon his departure from the hall
of permanent-RO-records that August night, Roger had left the
door open. Robinson knew that like L11, the Black Museum, this
door was also, on the opposite side, lined with rubber strips to
stop anyone from peering through the cracks or glimpsing an
internal light.
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
4
(IN 2-PARTS)
PART 1
(OF 2-PARTS)
IT IS OF THE OPINION THAT THE ROAD TO SALVATION
IS NEVER PAVED WITH GOOD INTENTIONS OR ANY GOOD
AND IS ALWAYS MOTIVATED BY WORLD/LIFE EVENT/CIRCUMSTANCE…
ONCE YOU WERE CONTENT TO LIVE YOUR WORLD/LIFE
ACTING AND REACTING AROUND UE
UNTIL YOU SAW ENOUGH OF THE TRUE NATURE OF POSTMESCIC-IT
FOR INTERNAL CONFLICT WITH THAT TOO-SAME UE
TO ENSURE YOU’D HAD ENOUGH
AND SO YOU SWORE YOU’D NEVER DO WRONG AGAIN
FOR FEAR OF GOING TO
IT’S STATE/MIND POSTMESCIC/EMBODIMENT-HELL IN DEATH!
THE ROAD TO SALVATION THEREFORE MEANS
HAVING ALL MORTAL WORLDLY ILLUSIONS INSPIRED BY EVIL
STRIPPED BARE RITE BEFORE YOUR VERY OWN/ED DISBELIEVING EYES…
AND YOU TO SELF-BETRAYED AS A SINNER IN THE BARGAIN…
LET’S SEE THEN, SHALL WE NOW, HOW WELL YOU FIT INTO
AND LIVE WITH THE MORTAL WORLD/LIFE
AND ALL OF THOSE UE-DRAMATIC-HUMAN-PAWNS AROUND YOU
YOU ONCE IMAGINED YOU HELD SO DEAR
75
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
76
FROM THIS POINT ON, MIGHTY ROBINSON!
FOR NO REAL LOGICAL CONSCIOUS-REASON
THE ENTIRE SILVER SPRINGS COMMUNITY
WILL BE AGAINST THE SYMPOL/CONCEPT
OF PROPER MAN MADE LAW AND ORDER…
FATHER AND MOTHER AGAINST SON AND DAUGHTER
WIFE AGINST HUSBAND AND HUSBAND AGAINST WIFE
AND SON AND DAUGHTER AGAINST FATHER AND MOTHER…
THE HUMAN ANIMALS ARE SO DEVOID OF TRUE MORALITY
AND INDEPENDENT AND PURE CONSCIOUS LIFE FORCE SPIRIT!
SEAKING SALVATION ITSELF WILL NOW BE YOUR TRUE CURSE
AND SELF-SCOURGE
UNTIL YOU FEEL AS IF YOU MIGHT AS WELL HAVE
A SYMBOLIC MILESTONE HUNG AROUND YOUR OWN/ED
SYMBOLICALLY SELF-HANGED DUMMY’S NECK
AND ONE MORE FOR EVERY MILE YOU DARE TO VENTURE
WHILE IN THIS SO VERY DANGEROUS MIND SET
WHEN YOU TRY TO COMPLETELY REJECT UE AND ALL UE RELATED WORKS
EXCEPT WHEN YOU THINK YOU CAN USE UE TO DO SOME GOOD!
O YES…
WE SHALL SEE…
WHAT WILL NOW HAVE TO BECOME OF SO, SO LITTLE YOU…
SO, SO REBELLIOUS OF THE RO-CULTURE STATUS QUO, ROBINSON…
A UE-HUMAN HERD OUT TO SYMBOLICALLY TRAMPLE YOU-THE OUTCAST
TO SPIRITUAL/MORTAL DEATH…
WHEN ALL OTHERS WILL BE RUN BY UE
AND YOU SO VERY, VERY ALONE
OUT TO SAY EVIL IS ALWAYS EVIL AND NEVER GOOD/
THE SO-CALLED GREAT FASHION/RAGE OF THE DAY!
Robinson turned the key in the well-oiled padlock. He drew
back the bolt. He pushed open the door to the hall of permanentRO-records. He reached in. He flicked the light switch ON. The
white room immediately lit up, well enough for Robinson to be
surprised he could see no dust particles, despite this room
having been sealed since last August. The thick fumes and the
stench of gas reached him. Another thought was in his mind.
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
77
IN PERSON, OFFICER DOBBIN ARRIVED TO COLLECT THE SAINT’S
PHOTO ALBUMS THAT BETRAY SHE BELIEVED IN REINCARNATION!
THE NAME DOBBIN MADE MICHAEL RIORDAN THINK OF THE
POSSESSING DEITY ABOUT TO MOUNT THE HUMAN HORSE, FOR MICHAEL’S
UNCONSCIOUS
MIND
INSTINCTIVELY
COMMUNICATED
INFORMATION,
MICHAEL’S CONSCIOUS MIND COULD NOT CORRECTLY DECIPHER, AND WHICH
IS INFORMATION THAT RELATES TO A DARK SPIRITUAL PRESENCE
PRESENTLY AT WORK HERE IN RO!
YET THE WORD DOBBIN WAS ENOUGH FOR MICHAEL TO CONSCIOUSLY
CONNECT IN SOME WAY, WITH HIS BROODING AND SELF-SATISFIED UE…
He abruptly remembered DOBBIN was the name for a horse. In
particular, it was the name for a work/horse.
BE FASTER AND SWIFTER
FOR IF THE POSTMESCIC MIND GOD
IS REALLY OF AN INALTERABLE DESIGN…
YOU’D BEST LEARN HOW TO THINK ON YOUR FEET
AND SEE AND PREDICT THE PATTERNS ROBINSON
AND BECOME BLACK POSTMESCIC ARTS MASTER…
IT WILL GROW BORED IF YOU DO NOT KEEP IT SELF-ENTERTAINED
DURING THE FINAL FACTURING OF THE WORLD/LIFE/DAYS…
ROGER! ROGER HAS COME BACK! HE’S HERE WITH US RITE NOW, IN
THE STATE POSTMESCIC/EMBODIMENT-MIND-GOD, IF NOT IN BODY!
It was too late for Robinson. He had already crossed the
threshold. He had switched on the light. He had illuminated the
vast rectangular room from the dark. The room housed eight rows
of steel shelves supporting cardboard boxes. When all of the so
very many, many boxes were accounted for, the boxes contained
thousands of files. The shelves stretched to the ceiling. Each
row was made up of twin twelve-foot long shelves, one directly
before the other, and divided by exactly one yard of space. The
first row erected against the far wall, was labeled 1A. The twin
shelf was labeled 1B. The rows stretched all the way across the
room to the 8A and 8B-row housed against the opposite wall. Each
row was divided from the next row, by a space totaling exactly
two yards. This allowed a visitor to walk up and down the rows,
and read the year and the dates written on the cards taped to
the shelves, and also walk between the A and B shelves. It
looked like a library. He felt dizzy as if trapped in a
labyrinth torture-chamber-puzzle-box.
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
78
True, there was no trace of any dust. But directly ahead of
him, and lying on the floor as if left to mark where the A–
shelves and B–shelves divided, was a pile of black and unmarked
photo albums. Burnt and torn-up photographs surrounded them.
Yet, there was still some physical evidence left that selftestified Dorothy Philpot had once entertained insane dreams
concerning the finding of her reincarnated brother David, and
possibly to do with sexual reasons. Many photographs had only
been torn to shards, rather than burnt to ashes, and the ashes
then stamped upon and kicked till scattered into black smears.
Lying amidst the black ashes and photo albums and torn
photographs was a State trooper’s neatly folded uniform. A State
trooper’s hat, and a large pair of black and shining patrolman’s
boots flattened this most particular immaculate uniform. The
semi-melted heals suggested the boots had been recently used to
walk over hot coals and to stamp upon the photograph ashes.
THIS IS THE HALL OF PERMANENT-RO-RECORDS BY ALL RITES, ROBINSON!
UE strove to communicate a negative reaction to all
World/life experiences a person had. Usually this information
was based on the type of information one had grown up with
circumventing ones World/life environment. Robinson now felt a
destructive insanity rising up from his unconscious mind. He
felt all conflicted when he failed to consciously grasp the true
meaning of the spiritual World/life all factors in this
World/life scene somehow reflected and implied he should come to
an understanding of.
Just as he imagined Roger’s physical body rising up out of
nothingness and filling the empty uniform, a squeaking sound
began behind his back. He spun around. Michael Riordan had swung
the heavy hall-door all the way open. He wheeled in the handoperated forklift. Michael appeared oblivious to the stench of
gas. Yet Michael must have unconsciously detected something.
Michael was angry and introspective. No doubt he was reliving
some bad memory of he been treated badly in the past, and was
confusing this as the real cause of his foul mood.
‘Before I tell you,’ said Robinson to Michael. ‘Don’t
forget what spiritual laws The Post/man wrote the IG and the UE
are the sum of. In a way then, this World/life reflects the next
World/life. The next World/life can come to exist again to
control and determine all of this World/life?’ He wished to
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
79
alert Michael, so Michael would be less likely to now make an
error in thinking. Robinson equally wished to keep himself
alert. He resisted his primal-UE-drive to fall to mental
confusion when he simply failed to make logical sense out of the
monstrous
body-of-UE-purpose-sanctioned-raised-information
occurring and then constantly reoccurring in his conscious mind.
IT came in as an apparent explanation for what was really
ongoing here. ‘Because, Inora mind God, Michael…’
‘What?’
‘Roger’s here! He’s with us, now!’
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
80
PART 2
(OF 2-PARTS)
‘Where? How could anyone have gotten through that locked
door, without leaving any pick scratches, or the workmen seeing
him? Roger didn’t have to leave a big gaping hole in that A2cell wall for nothing you know?’ said Michael.
‘That uniform on the floor!’ Wide eyed, Robinson stared at
the uniform. He expected at any minute for that uniform to rise
and outline a full-grown man, as Roger Madican James physically
materialized in IT. Having come back from the other side of the
grave to avenge himself on the living for disturbing his sacred
hideaway, in his own/ed private RO-library full of the only
subject matter Roger was really interested in reading these
days. Given it was the RO-orphans who’d somehow tricked him into
thinking he should commit mortal sins he could be damned for
committing in the first place.
Michael stiffened. ‘Gas!’ Michael withdrew his sub-nosed
.38-from his tiny shoulder holster. For an FBI agent who liked
to think he possessed real power on this Earth, the gun looked
small and pathetic. ‘This whole room stinks like the underground
jailhouse did the August 1964 day we walked in on Roger just
after he had Reason-torched the tramp Jack Riley!’
‘There’s just that discarded State Trooper uniform now?’
Robinson said.
Michael frowned. He contemplated the torn-up photographs.
They were a concoction of both color, and black and white
photographs. ‘Are they what I think they are?’
‘I’d bet my soul!’
‘For a worthwhile wager, you might have to bet something
more substantial than that, given what we’ve both been through?’
Michael pushed Robinson aside. He stepped out from behind the
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
81
lift truck. He walked cautiously towards the photograph remains.
Robinson wondered if Michael felt his new bullet-wound scar
tissues twitching, as much as Robinson felt his new extensive
leg-scar tissues twitching.
‘Postmescic-mind-God!’ Michael was inches from the torn-up
photographs.
‘What?’ Drawing courage from the mere undefined concept of
Michael’s bravery, Robinson dared to follow in Michael’s
footsteps, some of which were visible due to the photograph ash
Michael had stepped in. ‘Is IT Roger?’
There had been no need to ask. He immediately saw how the
photo albums had really been brought in here, and why no one,
including Postmescic-Roger, had walked through any walls to get
into a locked room, as if some Christ about to prove his selfresurrection to a doubting Thomas. He chose to ignore the halfburnt photographs that captured the fire-warped image of Roger
Madican James amidst the ashes. He saw what the boxes of
permanent-RO-files filling the shelves had initially restricted
him from glimpsing. A large crater in the ceiling revealed the
steel-rod skeleton dividing the first floor from the second
floor. A workman hung here. The construction chain supporting
him-had broken his neck. The chain end was wrapped once around a
steel rod. It was secured there by way of an old RO-padlock. His
yellow hard hat lay on the floor in a vast pool of gas.
After removing the tiles up on the second-floor, the
workman must have been inspired to drill a hole through the
floor. Then, with one end of the construction chain wrappedaround his self-hanged dummy’s neck, and secured by way of a ROpadlock, he’d jumped straight down. Perhaps the use of the ROpadlock and construction chain had been the workman’s way of
ensuring if he was found half-alive, people wouldn’t be able to
cut him down in time to save his World/life? Certainly, the
floor directly under the workman’s suspended heals was littered
with chunks of plaster, concrete and wood.
HE LOOKS LIKE A DOG HUNG UP THERE UPON HIS MASTER’S LEAD
THIS WORKMAN HUNG UP THERE!
‘Postmescic-Roger? You here?’ Robinson shouted.
‘You’ve got Roger on the brain Robinson! No one’s here with
us,’ Michael said. ‘Except this unfortunate guy, hanged by his
very own/ed so mortal hand!’
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
82
‘He’s not the only one with Roger Madican James on the
brain, for Postmescic-Roger really is here with us,’ a hoarse
voice seemed to have to fight to say aloud. ‘Just as he always
is!’
Michael and Robinson spun around. A dark and glistening and
completely naked black figure walked down the corridor dividing
the A-shelves from the B-shelves. He was as naked and as clean
as a corpse on a coroner’s table, prior an autopsy commencing.
Though Michael had met him once before, only Robinson recognized
this man.
‘At least Postmescic-Roger is rite here, rooted in me, for
all time!’ The looming, naked and black-skinned figure glistened
due to the oil he’d smeared all over his skin. Maybe the oil
helped relieve the pain. He’d burnt his neck, left wrist, ribs,
and the side of his head, as if an attempt to imitate the
appearance of Roger’s birthmarks. He smiled at them. Yet he did
not really see them. IT was as if he deemed them to be of equal
insignificance as his own/ed interned conscious life force
spirit and original earthly identity. He held an open matchbox
in his left hand. He held a live match in his rite hand.
‘Can’t you smell him?’
‘All I can smell is the gas you poured everywhere, and a
whiff of charred human skin,’ Michael accused the huge and
looming naked black man. Robinson was impressed by Michael’s
calm bravery.
‘No, the burns, and the gas I poured everywhere, are to
remind me what he really wants from me!’
‘I know you,’ Robinson said. ‘Did you expect me to forget
so soon, after first meeting you?’
‘Yes… I was told August-9TH to go with you up to the gas
station bedroom to retrieve the Saint’s Colt .45 1911. You see I
know you TO ROBINSON
HONORED TO BE A MAIN PLAYER
THE ADOPTED SIRITUAL DREAM FATHER OF THE OTHER TWO GOOD
DIVINED PLAYERS
AND THE MAIN WORK/HORSE OF THE DIVINED TRINITY
THAT CONSTITUTES THE GOOD PLAYERS WITHIN THIS WHOLE
AND UNHOLY GAME!
‘THREE DEAD CORPSES GIVING RISE TO THREE DAMNED SPIRITS
THAT ARE THE COMPLETED SUM
THAT WILL MARK THE TRUE AND FINAL END OF ALL…
‘SIX-PLAYERS TWO PLAY ON BEHALF OF ALL
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
83
SIX PLAYERS TWO LOSE TWO ON BEHALF OF ALL…
‘YOU ARE ONE SUCH-WORK/HORSE-MONKEY, ROBINSON…
DID YOU THINK I’D FAIL TO NOTICE YOUR ONE EYED MONKEY HEADED
WALKING CANE-SO PROUDLY BRAZED?
‘THERE’S A PROPHECY THERE IN THE ONE EYE…
BUT I’LL NOT EVER LET YOU KNOW IT…
‘FOR UNLIKE YOU NOW
I CAN NOW SO EASILY AND CORRECTLY READ ALL SIGNS AND OMENS
OF THE DAMNATION GAME!
‘…YOU KNOW
WHATEVER PAT ELLIOT CONSCIOUSLY CULTIVATING CERTAIN EVIL TRAITS
REPRESENTS TO CONSCIOUS-ROGER
ARE THE TOO SAME EVIL TRAITS
THE POSTMESCIC MIND GOD MEANS TO USE
TO SELF-DEFINE AND TO MAKE A PALE AND SELF-MOCKING PARODY
OUT OF DEMONIC JOKER CONSCIOUS-YOU
BEFORE ALL IS TRULY THROUGH WITH YOU…
‘AND THAT IS THE MESSAGE
IT HAS LEFT WITH ME to now give to you… Predictable to your very
last worldly breath, when, despite IT all, you are still here,
to be able to now come here upon the scheduled moment!’
Robinson became conscious of his walking stick, as if
suddenly realizing it was an eyesore. He felt compelled to think
of it as a cane. What was so special about the one-eyed monkey?
What prophecy could be made out of IT? But that was just the
point. Even conscious-Robinson wasn’t sure why he had given it
only one good eye, other than he felt only half aware, and half
seeing, as he stumbled randomly through these final hellish
World/life days down upon the Mother Earth?
Too startled to know how now to react, he said, ‘you were
the one! You had to take Roger down to the underground holding
cells after Ricky King accidentally shot out the precinct
station window… Also, the Officer Derek Dobbin who collected the
photo albums here… How long have you been locked down in here?’
‘Officer Derek Dawson/DAWN/SON,’ the naked black man
smiled. ‘DOBBIN was my nickname on the force. What better way to
refer to a token nigger lawman, hired to prove the force dose
not discriminate, than as a work/horse put in with the most
advanced team of thoroughbred lawmen… so the establishment can
set an example… because someone higher up decided an example
should be set! So DOBBIN IT now forever will be!’ Onwards Dobbin
walked. His shriveled up and worm-like penis swung from side to
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
84
side before his balls. Dobbin appeared completely at home with
his nakedness.
Given the live matches Dobbin possessed, Michael and
Robinson chose to back out of his way. Robinson beckoned to
Michael to retreat beyond the hung white workman, while Robinson
retreated back from the hanged white workman.
Dobbin finally halted. He stood gazing at the white man’s
corpse hung from the ceiling like some crazy man’s idea of the
ultimate chandelier. Robinson was to the back of Dobbin. Michael
was to the front of Dobbin. They had Dobbin caged in.
‘Good whitey tried to stop me from getting in here! I had
to do something!
‘…LIKE THE DOG… HUNG UP THERE ON THE TRUE MASTER’S LEASH…’
‘So you killed him, just like that?’ Robinson snapped his
fingers. He couldn’t take the spiritual pressure, and continue
to remain consciously divorced from his own/ed UE in constant
turmoil amidst the factors of this so unholy and so unnatural
World/life scene. He felt a surge of UE-inspired despair. Then
he was full of so furious rage over the sheer injustice and
uselessness of IT all. ‘What did he die for? Some paper ROfiles? What little remains of the original RO-committee-reports
on how the other RO-orphans really treated Roger, mostly behind
his back? The photographs? Or some crazy idea that somehow got
caught in your mind, like a dead fly stuck rotting in a fly
trap?’
‘I did him a favor! He wasn’t happy. He never could be! Not
in a World/life such as this one really is!’ Dobbin continued.
Dobbin’s eyes were still directed towards the hanged white man,
now gently swinging like a pendulum. Dobbin’s stare was so
intense, Robinson had to wonder if Dobbin had actually convinced
himself he was using his mind to cause the corpse to ever so
slightly sway.
‘And now he is happy?’ Robinson glared at Dobbin glistening
with the scented oil smeared all over his dark black skin.
‘Yes.’
‘And you know this for a fact? He’s happier now?’
Dobbin slowly nodded his head. ‘If he is not, then he will
be any second now, when I show him even more kindness and
understanding and compassion in the truest sense!’
Robinson glanced down at the live match in Dobbin’s hand.
Robinson said, more to alert Michael to the danger of this most
particular World/life situation than for any other reason,
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
85
‘Dobbin! Don’t do IT! We still need to question you! Come away
with us today! Not a word will be said about what went on here
between us!’ Robinson was actually telling Dobbin the truth as
he decided upon it, being the man made law-maker/breaker he was.
Dobbin laughed. Due to the fact of his confidence he could
not now be stopped by the other two living lawmen, and due to
how his gaze never faltered or was misdirected from the workman
hanging up upon the construction chain, by laughing he somehow
mocked the sturdy chain-lead he’d strung the dead workman up
with. As such, Dobbin appeared more like a work/horse for the
forces of the State/mind Postmescic/Embodiment-Reason-weavinghell.
‘You mean you need the flies…’ Dobbin blinked. ‘…Need the
files, and what little is still left of the RO-committee’s
reports detailing how the other RO-orphans really treated Roger…
and will reassure me of any lie in order to save them!
‘You don’t need me! What could I tell you anyway? That
Postmescic-Roger is obscuring smoke and ash inside my head… and
has replaced the void left after my soul was self-destroyed?
That his unseen hand nudged me just in time, and directed me
from my burning cruiser, before it exploded on the seldom-used
main road leading to Harvey Jammer’s exploded gas station? He
saved me, but never said why he interrupted my natural fate
created when as a still developing fetus I lay as if dreaming in
my mother’s womb… and IT was determined I should die on the main
road in a flaming cruiser wreck.
‘Yet, I know, by now, that intended fate was interrupted,
just so I could tell you all that Roger hasn’t forgotten a
single one of you, whom he,’ Dobbin went on like a human-taperecorder playing back Postmescic-Roger’s message given to him
back at the gas station. Before Postmescic-Roger had started the
fire there. In particular, Dobbin focused on talk of the Exudus.
‘Didn’t evolve as the nation of the pure Gods intended you to…
‘But me? I only got to live beyond my own/ed intended
mortal World/life span long enough to remember the control you
can exert over the living when you hold a live match over gas,
you have poured simply everywhere like Roger did back at the gas
station… the day when Cart/man burned…’
‘That’s not true! You’re still here, and can be for many
more years. Can’t you see?’ Sensing what now had to come,
Robinson said, ‘the files won’t lead us to anyone or anything we
can’t find, eventually! IT will just mean more work, and more
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
86
time wasted… That is all… and the creation of a taskforce could
even overcome those World/life time restraints!’ With keys in
one hand, and his walking stick in the other, Robinson was no
match for this madman ranting incoherently before him. Robinson
stepped back. He nodded at Michael. As a much colder and
calculating character, Michael immediately understood they had
no other option but to take drastic World/life action. They
really did need Dobbin alive. They really did need the ROflies/files safe and secure.
‘Where
is
Postmescic-Roger
hiding?’
Robinson
asked.
‘Besides in the thought-ruins of your own/ed mind?’
‘But you don’t have any World/life time left… Not even for
another frantic heartbeat,’ Dobbin whispered quietly. He began
to turn in Robinson’s direction. He was somehow exactly like,
and going at the exact same steady and consistent pace as the
white workman was presently turning on his so sturdy and
restricting construction chain like some crazy man’s idea of a
beautiful chandelier. ‘Haven’t you figured that out yet?’
There was a deafening blast. Michael had shot Dobbin in the
index finger. The index finger was blown half off at a cruel
angle. The bullet burrowed straight through the palm. A shard of
bone sprang up. The force of impact and erupting bone
pressurized Dobbin against his will to half-close his hand, even
as the matchbox jumped from Dobbin’s grasp.
The matchbox flipped through the space separating the Ashelves from the B–shelves. The stinking matchbox looked like it
had lain in uncollected RO-trash all summer long. Now that the
matchbox had been flipped over, Robinson glimpsed the initials
P.E. stained into the cardboard side. The blue-ink reminded
Robinson of jailhouse tattoos. The ink had soaked so deeply into
the cardboard, the initials had stood the test of time, as if to
indicate the deeply flawed arrogance of the owner, who had
wanted his whole World/life to know who the matchbox belonged
to. And even whom the matchbox had once belonged to. By this
day, to rid the stinking matchbox of all traces of the initials
P.E. could only be achieved by the total destruction of the
matchbox.
Robinson could not help but remember what Dobbin had said
about how, in conscious-Roger’s perception of reality, the exRO-orphan Pat Elliot represented to Roger, a distorted and selfmocking-demonic joker parody of what conscious-Robinson would
mean to Roger, if Robinson were defined solely by evil traits?
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
87
Was this most particular Pat Elliot then, Robinson’s
opposing Player? Who then were the other four divined Players?
As if oblivious to his mangled hand, Dobbin immediately
directed his gaze to follow the flight of the falling P.E.matchbox. Before the naked Dobbin could run after the matchbox,
Michael shot Dobbin in the shoulder. The second bullet fired,
could not help but hit solid bone. In a split second Dobbin was
spinning back the way he had initially come upon Robinson and
Michael. He spun back down the corridor separating the A-shelves
from the B–shelves. His feet struggled to keep him erect.
Dobbin’s feet finally failed him. Robinson noticed Dobbin’s
toenails were picked ragged-perhaps when he’d been bored locked
down here and had, had nothing better to do with his time.
Michael had been successful. The matchbox was well out of
Dobbin’s physical reach.
Dobbin hit the far back wall. Leaving blood after him, he
slid to the ground in between the 8A-shelf and 8B-shelf. Michael
and Robinson were already hurrying towards him. Robinson tossed
his one-eyed monkey walking stick away so he could limp faster.
With each painful step he took where the pain reached into the
very foundational bone, Robinson used both of his hands to aid
him drag his bad leg forward.
‘Good job!’ Robinson muttered. Robinson moved to grab the
wounded arm because he feared if Michael had it, Michael would
be too tough. As such, Michael would further frustrate and
antagonize Dobbin. A single line of blood streamed from the
small fleshy hole in Dobbin’s shoulder, down and across the oily
black skin. Left with no other realistic option, Michael grabbed
Dobbin’s good arm. Of course on this thing truly of theirs
alone, nothing could ever turn out to be so easy. Like a
magician having anticipated his audiences’ predictable reaction
to a well-rehearsed trick he had preformed to a hundred
different audiences who’d all had essentially the same reaction
to the trick… and so he could then learn how to better surprise
his audience through contradiction… even as Dobbin had been
falling, he had struck the red match-head against the course 8Bshelf side. It only took one strike of the grand match for
Dobbin to succeed in igniting a small flame. Michael only saw
the flame as he bent down to grab Dobbin’s rite arm.
Dobbin landed with a thump. He tossed the lit match through
the empty bottom 7B-shelf to the pools of gas he had poured all
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
88
over this area. The flames quickly ignited. They spread to many
of the cardboard boxes Dobbin had also soaked in gas.
‘HIS LAST DAY BACK OVER EVEN STILL OPERATIONAL RO-WOE
WHAT FINE CELEBRATION
WHEN WITH A JULY WEDDING FOR HIS LILY WHITE JULIE
PAT ELLIOT CELEBRATED THE THOUGHT
OF HIS OWN/ED PERSONAL LIBERATION FROM RO
BY THROWING AWAY HIS NEAR FULL BOX OF GOOD P.E.-MACTHES
FEELING AS HE DID HE’D SOON BE ABLE TO AFFORD SO, SO MUCH BETTER
IN THE GOOD WORLD/LIFE JUST ABOUT TO COME
AS HE BEGAN HIS FIRST STEPS
UP THIS WORLD/LIFE’S GREAT PROMOTION LADDER
ACCOMPLISHING A GREAT FEAT WITH EVERY RUNG HE CLIMBED UP
ON HIS SO LITTLE HUMAN FEET
AND THE ACT OF THE WASTE OF HE THROWING AWAY HIS P.E.-MATCHES
AFTER SO MANY YEARS OF SUCH CARE AND CAREFUL PLANNING AND SAVING
WAS TO REMIND HIM
AND TO ENSURE HE NEVER FORGOT ALL THE HARD WORK HE HAD PUT IN
IN HIS PAST
AND HIS GREAT DRIVE TO ACCOMPLISH ALL OF HIS OWN/ED
DEEPLY PERSONAL DREAMS AS HIS ADULT WORLD/LIFE REALITY!
‘JUST AS NOW
MY CONSTANTLY DREAMING AND RE/ENACTING BODY-OF-UE-MIND
LETS ME KNOW HIS LAST THOUGHTS THAT DAY
HE HELD HIS P.E. MATCHBOX OVER AND READY TO DROP
DOWN AND INTO THE TRASH HEAP!
TRASH AS MUCH AS I!’ Dobbin was mumbling. IT really was as if he
was parroting some prayer or spell he didn’t truly understand
the deeper significance of, to ensure IT could root more firmly
in him DCC-made-with-UE-style. Dobbin only succeeded in looking
like he was drunk.
‘You so stupid conscious-bastard! You know we should let
you burn here in your own/ed self-created fire! But we won’t!’
Robinson hobbled around to determine Dobbin had used so much gas
it was highly unlikely many RO-file boxes could be saved, if
they first took the time to save the crazy Dobbin.
‘Inora mind God,’ Robinson groaned. He noted that Dobbin
had even thought to pour gas over the silent workman, whose
grayish white corpse was presently aflame.
‘Don’t dare touch him!’ Dobbin shouted angrily in regard to
the hung workman Dobbin was presently even still staring at.
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
89
‘Leave him burn, where finally he will rest in peace, and so
know the peace of mind I am never to know!’
‘Damn rite you’ll know no peace in your prison cell,’
Michael cursed.
Michael and Robinson grabbed Dobbin’s armpits. They pulled
him to his bare feet. They were surprised by Dobbin’s complete
submission.
‘I want people to know all about this,’ Dobbin stumbled
ahead of them, all the time staring hypnotically at the flames.
Though he knew it was probably pointless, the old lawman in
Robinson came out. Robinson blindly grabbed a cardboard box off
a shelf.
‘O Inora-mind-God, not another one with a message,’ Michael
grumbled. He aimed his revolver at Dobbin’s back.
They passed the hanged workman. Dobbin stopped. He stared
at the flaming body. ‘Should have been me! Was me?’ Dobbin said.
‘Smoke and ash in my own/ed cruiser on the main road leading
away from the blown up gas station… Never found, or come upon by
chance, until all but ash!’
Too late Robinson realized why Dobbin had not put up a
fight against them. Starting the fire had ensured Dobbin had
somehow mentally reconceived the empty black void, and lifeless
state of spiritual dreaming death, Dobbin claimed Roger Madican
James had helped him to escape from. But which Dobbin now
believed he had been fated to since his birth, if not his very
conception in his mother’s womb.
By the time this understanding occurred to Robinson, as if
Dobbin believed he was in a dream, and as such felt no fear of
physical pain or mortal death, Dobbin had already walked
straight into the flames. Robinson had been too preoccupied by
the nasty exit bullet-wound in Dobbin’s back, to be alert enough
to drop his RO-cardboard box in time so he could try to stop the
madman. The exit wound had a shard of bone and a sliver of flesh
protruding out of it. Yet Dobbin acted as if he was oblivious to
the wound and the pain the wound must be generating. Considering
how Robinson had reacted to the bullet that had forever crippled
his leg, he had been too distracted by this thought to be selfprepared for Dobbin’s insane, but next calculated move.
What was Michael meant to do now, shoot the man into the
fire, he wished only to burn to death in?
In between the flaming shelves, and looking more like a
Zombie, Dobbin picked up one of the gas canisters he had hidden
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
90
somewhere back there earlier. ‘Too tired to live any more! Best
dream on! Would be better for me and also the World if I’d never
been born!’ Dobbin poured the gas in a flaming shower over his
head. Instantly, he became a human torch. Without making a
sound, Dobbin stood perfectly motionless. He simply burned. He
spewed out thick black smoke that was blacker than his skin,
like exhaust fumes from a rocket ship powering IT’s way to hell.
‘You think this fire should hurt me?’ Dobbin said most
calmly. ‘IT is my memories that truly burn me in my State/mind
Postmescic/Embodiment-hell! My World/life history is, as much as
Roger’s is, born within the cold spiritual Postmescic blueprint
tomb that is no less than my own/ed spiritual grave. Now I am
drawn back Michael… Drawn back as if a moth to a flame.’
Then, as simple as, and just like that, Dobbin collapsed
dead, or unconscious due to the pain or trauma or shock to the
system, to the flaming floor.
‘You’re crazy Robinson!’ Michael said. ‘Don’t you see what
this really means? Once we die, and go beyond the grave, the
Postmescic will remake us all to conform to the Postmescic mind
God’s twisted self-vision of what all of World/life should be
made to conform to! First World/life history-judgment, then
we’ll be remade in IT’s universal vision.’ The flames grew more
all consuming. Michael used his jacket to cover his face.
Leaving Dobbin to burn in a fallen heap, he began to wade back
out of the hall. He shouted, ‘Take one last look at that fallen
burning corpse Robinson. What you see at works in Dobbin now, is
the universal judgment day processes, at works beyond the
earthly grave… Only for once IT’s now happening rite here, on
the physical Earth! This is IT Robinson,’ Michael said.
By now, Michael and Robinson both stood in the corridor
outside the hall, looking back in at the fire. The smoke clouds
swirling out the door blinded them to all shelves and RO-boxes
interned within.
‘That’s fucking IT! Never again! Roger is one thing!
Reason-killing Jack Riley yards away from Roger’s physical body
is also one thing! But being able to reach out with an unseen
hand, or mind, and to get a complete stranger to do this to
himself, and Roger nowhere in the vicinity… That’s fucking IT…
I’m fucking finished with this!
‘Best you understand that now! I’m finishing with all of
this fucking insanity we have no hope of ever consciously
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
91
compassing, even in death! And I’m not burning myself alive,
just to prove that to you or me, you crazy asshole?
‘Look at this fucking thing…’ Michael said in truest
disgust. He beckoned towards the hall where by now even the
hand-operated lift truck and the pallets were in flames. Thick
clouds of dirty smoke spewed relentlessly out the doorway. ‘You
think Dobbin was sick… Wait until you see the next crazy human
agent of Postmescic darkness IT sends to punish you, for daring
to try to interfere with IT’s so very earthly works. But I’m
getting on with my real World/life. I’m not going to end up like
Dobbin, so self-obsessed with what he only figured had been the
true moment of his rite/ful death and World/life-history
judgment that the man would walk straight back into a fire, he
himself made, and burn himself alive! And yet never once think
to cry out in pain… Or betray a single moment of self-doubt,
even as he burned alive!’
Michael only succeeded in making Robinson angry. All
Robinson knew how to do with that negative energy UE-raised
conflict was to become even more determined to succeed, to do
what the Post/man said the nation of the pure Gods intended
humanity to do. To never, ever consciously self-mirror with the
UE-hate/revenge-drive in order to achieve the UE-purpose, but to
do the complete reverse of what UE compelled the conscious mind
to do… to rebel then in the completely opposite direction of
evil towards enlightenment, truth and purity, to fight to end
the great injustice of IT all and never, ever to add to IT-all.
‘Go fuck yourself, you cheap self-swindling, morally
bankrupt, conscious coward!’ Using his handkerchief to gag his
mouth and nose, Robinson waded back into the hall. With his eyes
raw and watering, he tried to look through the blinding smoke.
He could see no sign of his walking stick. He knew it was
pointless trying to save the RO-boxes. At best, he could pull
out a couple, and even then he would burn his hands. Even so, he
decided to make the effort just to remind himself he was never
giving up, no matter how great the worldly odds stacked against
him… no matter how terrible the physical pain… no matter how
great the desire to hate others and to punish others and to take
the most selfish and cowardly and pathetic response… no matter
how great the UE-drive/desire to live in a failed World/life
that as such only celebrated failures and the work of failures.
‘You conscious-fool!’ Michael was shouting from outside as
he spotted Robinson’s smoky and vague form moving around inside
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
92
the flaming hall of permanent-RO-records. ‘Don’t you see, yet?
You had some kind of personal relationship with Roger back in
the summer of 1959, PP:FCIC-made-with-IG-style! So consciousRoger, from wherever he presently is, must have decided to send
you one last final too-earthly warning, because he doesn’t want
you to end up like he has… I cannot more strongly suggest you
take
that
final
warning.
I
sure
as
the
Sate/mind
Postmescic/Embodiment-hell am going to… even if I am just the
chance passenger along with you for the ride… and simply then
lucky enough to be here to be a firsthand witness of that final
warning! Because nobody but a firsthand eyewitness, could ever
understand, or even believe in the nightmarishly paradoxical
reality of all of this so hellish thing/bullshit!’
Robinson refused to come out. Michael looked around for the
fire alarm. As soon as he spotted it, he strode over. He
wrenched down the red-lever with the black rubber handgrip. This
fire alarm was surely connected with the Silver Springs FireDepartment. Once, the prestigious-RO could have expected a quick
response. Now, Michael was not so sure. There was nothing of any
worth left up here to save, but the permanent-RO-records. No
one, including the ex-RO-graduates, saw any value in them.
Michael had expected the alarm to draw Robinson out. It did not.
‘Robinson? Robinson!’
Though the bells were ringing loudly all over RO wherever
the workmen had failed to remove the bells, Robinson still did
not come out. Inside the flaming hall, Robinson coughed in the
smoke that completely engulfed him. The intense heat dried and
singed his hair, face and hands. Yet somehow, he knew he was
going to make it out virtually unscathed. He was wracked with
great guilt and mental confusion as images flashed into his mind
of children killed in wars, or left to starve to death in manmade famines, and no aid or personal saviors ever coming his or
her way. He wanted to scream, because he feared he’d go insane,
not because he was burning, but because he was not burning at
all. He was in fact remembering, and IT was as near as good as
speaking directly to him amidst the unholy smoke…
YOU DO THE RITE THING NOW ONLY BECAUSE YOU WERE TOLD
YOU ARE THE MAIN WORK/HORSE AND ADOPTED SPIRITUAL DREAM FATHER
OF THE OTHER TWO OF THE TRINITY
THAT CONSTITUTES THE THREE DIVINED GOOD PLAYERS
WHO AS SUCH ONE OF THE MONKEYS BLESSED
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
CAN WALK AS EQUALLY PHYSICALLY UNHARMED…
NO MATTER EVEN IF THE EARTH’S CRUST SHOULD CLEAVE
AND TWIST IN TWO
AND THE SUN BOIL THE SEAS
THAT REFLECT THE MOON THEN FALLING EARTH BOUND…
BY WILL, WILL SURVIVE…
ALL OTHERS AROUND THEM
(DIVINED SIX PLAYERS)
WILL FALL TO HELL…
AND MOST DUE TO THE COMBINED DECISIONS
OF YOU AND YOUR SO MERRY BAND OF OTHER TWO SO-CALLED GOOD
GAME-PLAYING DIVINED MEN…
DOBBIN, NOT THE FIRST NOR EVEN THE LAST TO RE-VISIT YOU…
93
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
94
5
(IN 3-PARTS)
PART 1
(OF 3-PARTS)
Robinson was dreaming of Dorothy Philpot. Both he and she
were in the State/mind Postmescic/Embodiment-hell’s stone cold
piano musical halls.
‘DOBBIN,’ he said. He meant to say ROGER to PHILPOT, who
refused to cease telling lies. ‘ISN’T, NOR EVER WAS, NO
CLASSICAL PIANO PLAYER, SELF-TRAINED, SELF-PREPARED, SELFEDUCATED, SELF-FASHIONED BY YOUR FATHER JOHN, USING HIS TINY
REPLICA CHURCH BELL, JINGLE, JINGLING!’
He bolted out of his sleep. He realized he sat upright in
his bed in the oppressive nightlight. He was listening to the
mattress creaking and swaying Lisa’s body as if in a ship at
blackest State/mind Postmescic/Embodiment-sea. Lisa was not his
concern. He had woken so suddenly because a deeper part of him
had sensed a hostile spiritual presence invade the master
bedroom.
Ever
since
going
through
his
alien
World/life
supernatural experiences, he had become more open to sensing any
such unseen spiritual presences. He guessed the more he
experienced, the stronger this particular connection with his
unconscious mind became.
Directly ahead, and before the bedroom window, was a storm
of gathering dust. He felt compelled to believe IT had been the
energy spent by his sudden waking movements that had selfresurrected the dust out of every unseen crack and dusty carpet
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
95
thread. The swirling dust surge gathered before the blinds halfdrawn before the picture window. Moonlight shafts penetrated the
master bedroom. He thought of the story the workman had told him
about the Devil trying to beat evidence of moral and spiritual
decay out of the Persian carpet the Muslim had once prayed on
daily. Also how the story had surely betrayed the workman’s
guilt over his theft of the Saint’s carpet-rug, though her
own/ed blood had surely still been on it. By rite, Robinson
should have bagged that carpet as evidence. He wasn’t much of a
Sheriff. Highly confused, he blinked.
He wondered if this was the handiwork of his mind? Was the
dust really dreamed dust beaten from the self-tormenting dreams
he was still self-experiencing of late? Quiet often since the
unearthing of Dorothy Philpot’s Reason-busted corpse he woke to
catch sight of her corpse staring at him from the foot of his
bed?
KID YOURSELF NOT, YOU ARE WIDE AWAKE MIGHTY ROBINSON!
Though he was fully awake, he was witnessing…
WHAT YOU LIKE TO THINK SIMPLY CANNOT BE?
JUST LIKE THE STONE ROLLED RITE ON BACK
FROM THE SELF-RESURRECTED CHRIST’S MORTAL TOMB
YOUR CONSCIOUS SPHERE AND SOUL PATTERN IS NOW
ALL OPENING UP IN ORDER TO SO CLEANLY RECEIVE!
FOR JUST LIKE UE
THE POSTMESCIC MIND GOD TO
USES WHATEVER CORRUPT-THOUGHTS AND IMAGES
A CONSCIOUS-MIND HAS SELF-ENTERTAINED IN THE PAST
IN ORDER TO SELF-RESURRECT ITSELF AND REPRESENT ITSELF
IN THE PRESENT
IN WHATEVER GUISE A CONSCIOUS MIND IS MOST LIKELY TO RECEIVE
ACCEPT, RECOGNIZE AND GRASP!
WHILE YOU…
WERE YOU NOT WELL-FOREWARNED
THE ROAD TO TRUEST SALVATION IS SELF-SCOURGE
WHEN ALL OF IT’S DISTRACTING AND MISLEADING ILLUSIONS
ARE STRIPPED BARE RITE BEFORE YOUR VERY OWN/ED DISBELIEVING EYES
LIKE A SYMBOLIC MILESTONE HUNG AROUND YOUR OWN/ED SELF-HANGED
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
96
DUMMY’S NECK
AND ONE MORE ADDED FOR EVERY MILE
YOU DARE TO VENTURE IN THIS SO OPEN/ED AND SO DANGEROUS STATE
OF CONSCIOUS-MIND SET/THOUGHT-NET!
IT IS NOT FOR NOTHING ALL SO-CALLED EXPERTS OF THE DAY
ARE SO FILLED WITH PRIMAL UE-INSPIRED RAGE
THAT STOPS HIM OR HER FROM KNOWING SELF-DOUBT
IN HIS OR HER ACCEPTED
AND CONSCIOUSLY CULTIVATED EVIL-INSPIRED-BELIEFS…
UE-HATE/REVENGE-DRIVE STYLE
Spotlighted in the moonlight coming through the space
allowed by the half-drawn blinds, the rising household dust
glittered like bone shards. This most particular master bedroom
contained six half-burnt boxes of RO-files. He’d managed to save
them before staggering out of the hall of permanent-RO-records.
On the bedside table lay two photographs he had found in ROboxes just inside the hall door. One half-burnt photograph
featured Roger’s fire-warped image. The second photograph framed
Charles Edward Damien’s picture perfect image.
Most of the master bedroom dust should be made up of
nothing but particles of human skin. Yet, this dust spiralled
around, seemingly outlining a desolate black void. He thought of
a star becoming up to one hundred million times brighter than
the sun, prior exploding, and the tiny shattered debris leading
to the creation of whole new planets and Worlds.
The circling alien dust drew together to form the shadowy
outline of a ghostly man. To further sell this illusion,
spiralling and gleaming dust self-conspired to angle itself
against the moonlight just rite, to generate the reflected color
of bone. Finally the faint man could be clearly defined as
Dobbin’s corpse hung up upon a construction chain.
JUST/LY AS THE POST/MAN WARNED YOU
IN HIS SO MANY LETTERS TO YOU, THAT YOU WOULD
IF YOU INSISTED ON FACING
INTO THIS DARK POSTMESCIC MIND GOD BUSINESS SO ALONE
YOU NOW HAVE ENDED UP FEELING NOT AT ALL LIKE A WHOLE MORTAL MAN
BUT JUSTLY LIKE A DAMNED SPIRIT IN EXILE
FROM HIS OWN/ED PERSONAL WORLD/LIFE-HISTORY JUDGMENT DAY
MERELY DREAMING IN HIS CONSCIOUS-DENIAL
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
97
THAT HE IS STILL MORTALLY ALIVE…
FOR DOWN UNDER IN THE STATE/MIND POSTMESCIC/EMBODIMENT-HELL
THIS IS WHAT ALL THE DAMNED REALLY DO, DO
AS THEY DREAM AND REDREAM OF THE MORTAL WORLD/LIFE RITE HISTROY
TRYING TO FIND THE ERROR IN THE WORLD/LIFE-HISTORY-JUDGMENT
SECURING THEM DOWN UNDER THERE…
THAT IS NEVER, EVER FOUND… NOT EVEN A SINGLE CLUE…
WELL ROBINSON
THE WORK/HORSE OF THE GOOD TRINITY OF GOOD PLAYERS
HERE IS THE REAL DEAL IGNITED
WITH THIS SO FURIOUS MOONLIT FLASH
AS IF THE LIGHT TO SHOW TO YOU, YOUR NEAR ETERNAL END-FATE
MARKED DOWN ON THIS NIGHT IF YOU INSIST ON REFUSING TO ALTAR
YOUR SO STUBBORN AND SO VERY MULISH WAYS…
GET OUT NOW OF THE DAMNATION GAME!
Abruptly, the moonlight seemed to surge into the master
bedroom. IT was as if it was the moonlight, rather than IT, that
was self-fracturing and drawing together all the dust particles.
The human form was left gleaming. Then, the naked corpse
hung before the window was burning with a brilliant white
passionate flame. Before Robinson knew how IT had happened
again, for the second time the damned Dobbin was burning before
his shielded eyes. Due to the white moonlight flames, and the
fact it was a corpse, Dobbin’s skin appeared whiter than dark
black. Yet, IT could not be moonlight making the dead Dobbin
look like he was burning. He knew so for the brilliant white
flame was not reflecting off any physical surface in the master
bedroom. Equally, he was now only instinctively shielding his
eyes, and doing what came natural to him, and was familiar to
him, rather than he actually fearing pain or blindness.
Most strange was that though the corpse appeared physical,
even the corpse self-conspired to outline and self-testify to
the existence of a foundational destructive Postmescic mind God
void that supported the illusion of there being a steadfast
corpse. Robinson wanted to moan that yet again, his fate in good
should be tested like this. This IT’s vision of absolute human
destruction and suffering, was meant to self-justify IT’s
contemptuous universal vision for all of conscious World/life.
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
98
Simultaneously
Dobbin,
in
the
Sate/mind
Postmescic/Embodiment-hell,
went
some
way
towards
selfsatisfying IT’s relentless and self-driving ambition to dominate
simply all. Robinson felt driven to dismiss this vision as a
skilful forgery of Dobbin. It had been a construction worker who
had been strung up on a chain, and not Dobbin. He knew better
than to try to sell himself on this compulsion. If he tried to
do so, then IT would mock him with the fact that down in the
State/mind Postmescic/Embodiment-hell, IT could self-convince
Dobbin of whatever IT wished Dobbin to believe had been the
truth of what had really happened in his World/life history when
Dobbin had been mortally alive and blessed with free will.
Worse, there was the fact to consider that hanging a man had
been one of the mortal sins Dobbin had been damned for, in a
past constantly reenacted down in hell…
Simple acceptance was a strange thing. Once more he lost
touch with how to relate to the living on any personal and
emotional level. He became consciously divorced from his own/ed
UE-turned to madness. UE controlled all of his negative
reactions to World/life experiences. UE now tried to instill
sheer primal terror into him. The numbness and defeatism filled
him. As a totally isolated and self-contained man disconnected
from the external World/life, he simply accepted he no longer
had any rite to any personal World/life, or human feelings of
his own/ed. Now, his only purpose was to face this Postmescic
mind God down rite to the very end, no matter what the personal
costs to him. So he alone might prove on behalf of conscioushumanity he still believed, even if no one else did, well…
GOODNESS, AND PURE SPIRITUAL CONSCIOUS-LIFE, AND THE
CONSTANT EVOLUTION OF CONSCIOUS LIFE FORCE SPIRITS INTO
INCREASING PURER STATES OF BEING AND MIND AND INTELLIGENCE, WAS
THE INTENDED REALITY! AS SUCH, GOOD CONSCIOUS LIFE WAS MEANT TO
EXERT CONTROL OVER, AND USE THE UE/POSTMESCIC EVIL AS A MERE
MORTAL WORLD/LIFE FOOL-TOOL-AID, AND SO LOWLY SLAVE, AND NOT
VICE VERSA! AS SUCH, EVEN IN THE FACE OF PURE EVIL… SUCH AS THIS
EVIL EXPLOITING MY UE-DRIVE TO UNDERSTAND REALITY… AND UEEXPLOITING THE REACTIONARY THINKING LAW SO UE CAN FULLY ECLIPSE
MY IG, AND COMPLETELY DISRUPT MY CONSCIOUS-SPHERE, AND ALL BUT
REPRESS AND DENY ME FROM SELF-CULTIVATING CONSCIOUS-THOUGHT
PROCESSES OUT OF MY FOUNDATIONAL-SOUL-PATTERN… MY SO DISTANT AND
GHOSTLY CONSCIOUS-SOUL-PATTERN WILL NOT FAIL TO NUDGE ME JUST
ENOUGH, TO STEER ME RITE, TOWARDS AUTOMATICALLY GOING WHAT IS
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
99
GOOD… AND EVEN IF I DON’T KNOW WHY WHAT I AM DOING IS GOOD AND
THE RITE THING TO DO DURING ANY GIVEN TESTING WORLD/LIFE TIME,
AS LONG AS I HAVE THE INHERENT WILL TO BE ONLY GOOD!
AS A PURE CONSCIOUS LIFE FORCE SPIRIT THE NATION OF THE
PURE GODS EXPECT THIS MUCH OF, THEN NO MATTER WHAT IT THROWS AT
ME, I MUST ALWAYS CARRY WITHIN ME, THIS INHERENT, AND NEVER
DYING WILL FOR ONLY GOOD TO BE THE END-RESULT FROM MY HUMAN
EXISTENCE! AS SUCH, I FEEL SECURE IN THE BELIEF, IG OR MY SOUL,
WILL ALWAYS AUTOMATICALLY NUDGE I, GOING ON BLIND AND SELFTORMENTING FATE ALONE, TOWARDS GOOD… AND EVEN IF EVIL SO
DISRUPTS MY CONSCIOUS-SPHERE, I CANNOT SELF-MAINTAIN FULL-SELFAWARENESS OF MY OWN/ED CONSCIOUS GOODNESS THAT ALLOWS ME TO
CONSCIOUSLY DEDUCE WHY WHAT I AM DOING IS ACTUALLY GOOD, AND THE
CORRECT AND ONLY RESPONSE TO HAVE TO IT-ALL!
AFTER ALL, THE ORIGINAL INTENTION WAS FOR THE UNCONSCIOUS
INTELLECTS TO BE MERE LEARNING AIDS/SPIRITUAL GUIDES/UNCONSCIOUS
SLAVES FOR THE CONSCIOUS SPEARE TO WORK THE TRUTH OUT OF…
THE FACT THAT THE HUMAN WORLD/LIFE IS SO SELF-CORRUPT THE
ACTUAL POSTMESCIC MIND GOD IS FULLY EMBODIED/SELF-RESURRECTED
HERE, IS BESIDES THE POINT…
EVEN WHEN THE PRESSURE TO MINDLESSLY DESTROY ALL IS THIS
GREAT WITH MY SPIRITUALLY-DEAD UE ON THE CONSTANT BOIL… AND MY
PRIMAL MIND INDUCED FEARS OF WHAT PUNISHMENTS ARE IN STORE FOR
ME ARE SO VERY REAL IF I DO NOT CONFORM TO EVIL… I CAN STILL
REFUSE THE EVIL COMPULSION AND SOMEHOW ACCESS AND REMEMBER THE
GOOD IN ME…
He could now only thank the nation of the pure Gods that
The Post/man had sent him correct definitions of such spiritual
laws that had to exist, if the nation of the pure Gods intended
humanity to evolve towards spiritual purity and wisdom. He was
under direct attack from such UE-raised negative energy, driving
him to consciously-self-deconstruct, and to fall into hate and
rage or despair and terror and mental confusion and the desire
to mindlessly punish and destroy, he could hardly think
coherently, or rationally. Yet mere memory of these definitions
was enough for now.
He simply tried to endure and just exist, and not think or
react emotionally to this God-forsaken unholy vision. He knew
that UE governed all negative reactions to World/life, including
fear. But for some reason, conscious-Robinson could not divorce
himself enough from his UE’s influence to feel brave now. Or to
at least detach himself from experiencing all-consuming terror,
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
100
despair, lack of faith in there being as well as evil, good
forces in universal creation to. Nor could he detach himself
from experiencing such hellish destructive emotions in this IT’s
so little earthly World/life scene IT nonetheless so firmly
self-compacted itself within…
Experiencing the World/life events linked by the fire in
the hall of permanent-RO-records had self-taught Michael
Riordan-the morally bankrupt and so ignorant conscious coward
one thing. But IT had self-taught conscious Robinson something
else entirely. Knowing he had nowhere left to run to anyway,
Robinson sat on his bed. His heart felt like a lump of pain in
his chest. He simply accepted he was cursed to endure this
despair, and unconscious rage so great he felt too powerless and
mentally weakened to know how to now respond. Other than to
simply endure the greatest suffering and horror. Yet, this did
not change the fact that consciously he could decide not to do
wrong, and it didn’t matter if Robinson died as a direct result.
He would not change his simple conscious belief good is always
rite, even when his own/ed emotions and unconscious mind were
putting on a true horror show and simply driving him to the
point of mental collapse, to change this belief good is always
rite. And which was a belief he as a detached and totally
isolated conscious witness so full of pain and under such
demonic attack, had no evidence to support, and probably never
had.
Dobbin’s eyelids were closed. His cheeks were sunken. His
lips were tightly sealed. IT suggested Dobbin actually thought
in his dreams of spiritual dreaming death, there was comfort and
peace and even glory in the act of leaving all that was good in
him be repressed to the point that only spiritual dreaming death
dominated his entire, flexible and all-receiving conscious-lifeforce-spiritual medium/being.
‘For the nation of the pure Gods sake, wake yourself out of
IT Dobbin! Don’t you know IT’s always a conscious choice, even
if the road to truest salvation is a hard and grueling one? But
better that rocky road seldom traveled, than just staying put,
and stagnant, and adding to IT-all, in IT’s State/mind
Postmescic/Embodiment-hell? There’s got to be a way back to the
Inora-mind-God, even now, and even for you… If you have not yet
being completely removed as a self-named spiritual error?’
Sitting on top of the two photographs on the bedside table,
the phone began to ring. Dobbin could hardly speak in a human
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
101
voice from the other-side of the grave? Even if Dobbin could
voice personal thoughts on his present condition, the Postmescic
mind God would not let him. IT looked on Dobbin as a hoodwinked,
dancing, fool-conscious-UE-tool, demonic joker-clown, void of
any real insight into his own/ed condition, or IT. As such, all
Dobbin could now do was present this vision of himself for
Robinson’s so personal inspection. As if Dobbin, in his obvious
pride, truly believed his dream interpretation of his own/ed
ghostly hung-corpse spoke volumes?
Yet the real truth was that simultaneously, the Postmescic
mind God exploited Dobbin’s delusional state of ghostly mind, to
dangle Dobbin before Robinson as IT’s all reflective, selfsupporting evidence of the Postmescic mind God’s all dominating
and irreversible universal power over simply all. If the
Postmescic mind God could do this to the dead, what did IT do to
the living without he or she even been aware IT was doing IT to
him and her one and all?
DOBBIN INSISTS ON SIDING WITH IT
EVEN DOWN IN THE STATE/MIND POSTMESCIC/EMBODIMENT-HELL…
HE! HE!!
THE LIVING ARE NO DIFFERENT MIGHTY ROBINSON…
HE AND SHE THINK HE AND SHE WANT HELL AND DAMANATION…
HE AND SHE THINK IT IS A CONSCIOUS CHOICE AND FOR THE BEST!
CONSCIOUSLY-SELF-MIRRORING WITH THE EVIL HATE/REVENGE-DRIVE
TO MOCK THE NATION OF THE PURE GODS
AND YET IT IS THE POSTMESCIC MIND GOD THAT BRINGS HELL
AND PAIN AND SUFFERING AND HATE AND DESPAIR AND RAGE
AND REASONS TO HATE THE NATION OF THE PURE GODS
AND TO WISH TO SPITE THE PLANS OF THE NATION OF THE PURE GODS
AND HELL IS NOT BROUGHT BY THE NATION OF THE PURE GODS
FOR IF ALL HUMANS FOLLOWED THE NATION OF THE PURE GODS PLAN
ALL WOULD BE SO VERY CONTENT AND HAPPY?
WHAT TRULY IGNORANT FOOLS, CONSCIOUS HUMANITY!
CAN’T EVEN COLLECTIVELY CREATE A FAIR AND JUST HUMAN WORLD/LIFE
AS IS INTENDED FOR HUMANITY TO DO
DESPITE THE FACT ALL WOULD THEN SO GREATLY BENEFIT
AND THERE WOULD BE NO MORE SELF-PUNISHMENT!
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
102
The bedside phone was still ringing. Robinson automatically
picked up the receiver. Lisa may as well be a mannequin lying in
the bed next to him for all the sense of company he presently
felt. In truth, he felt the complete reverse. He felt great
guilt. He feared what IT would do to anyone he held dear, in
this IT’s own/ed self-made mortal World/life, in IT’s bid to
both punish and self-corrupt him. Given he now knew he would
never change his ways of meddling in the Postmescic mind God’s
business in the name of dismantling and ultimately defeating IT
in order to make human society a great place. Nor would he make
any pacts with this evil in order to save his own/ed so cowardly
hide.
‘Sheriff Robinson speaking!’ he said into the mouthpiece.
To his hearing, his voice sounded strange, distant and
emotionless.
‘IT’s Dobbin, Robinson!’
As if given a ghostly fight, he felt an icy spirit hand
grip his heart in IT’s closed fist. IT then began to so tightly
squeeze the life out of him.
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
103
PART 2
(OF 3-PARTS)
‘Michael Riordan was rite about Dobbin, Robinson. Dead
rite. Dobbin might be at peace now, but he sure as hell left
enough turmoil after him! His last actions as a mortal man,
during the days leading up to his death, speak volumes!’ It was
Patrick Watkins speaking. Watkins had since officially taken
over as head of the State Police.
Robinson felt another surge of humiliation. He had thought
Dobbin could not speak when in the all dominating and tightly
controlled State/mind Postmescic/Embodiment-hell. But Dobbin’s
sinful actions as a living human could still speak volumes on
his behalf even after his mortal/physical death.
Dobbin began to rotate as he burned in the searing white
light at the end of his ghostly construction chain, a link for
every sin. The silver spiritual light revealed where the void
was beginning to rise up and outwards in order to reclaim him
back into his designated slot down in the State/mind PostmescicEmbodiment-hell.
WHAT ARE THE CHANCES OF ALL WORLDLY/LIFE EVENT/CIRCUMSTANCES
CONVERGING JUST RITE SO THE PHONE RINGS
AND YOU STILL HERE DESPITE IT ALL NOW HEAR
THIS SO VERY EARTHLY WORLD/LIFE MESSAGE
RITE AT THIS DARK AND UNTIMELY HOUR OF FORECASTING
AND LAST MINUTE WARNING WHEN DOBBIN SHOULD APPEAR HERE
TURNING ON HIS SELF-HANGED MAN’S/WORKMAN’S CONSTRUCTION CHAIN
TO MOCK YOU AND YOUR BELIEF IN DOING WHAT IS GOOD AND RITE
MIGHTY ROBINSON
BY EXPOSING YOUR INFERIOR KNOWLEDGE OF ALL MORTAL WORLDLY WAYS
AND ALL IT’S OMENS, PROPHECIES, AND SIGNS!
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
104
WHY SUFFER FOR THE HUMAN RACE WHEN YOU CAN MAKE A DEAL
AND BECOME THE CONSCIOUS CROWN NUT JOB
IN PLACE OF FORGED-CONSCIOUS-ROGER
UPON THE POSTMESCIC MIND GOD!
Dobbin might as well be laughing aloud at Robinson, and
Robinson’s notions concerning how Dobbin should even now look
for the road to truest salvation with Inora heaven. Dobbin’s
ghostly presence here seemed to self-imply so much, independent
conscious-Robinson
was
incapable
of
understanding
as
a
independent conscious being totally separate from his back stage
joke house unconscious mind so full of the learning aids. Dobbin
seemed to hang in pride, as if he truly believed he had found
his rightful place down under in the kingdom of spiritual
dreaming death, where he could do his very best to aid IT all,
despite the hellish self-torment he had to presently know? Had
the black man really been so self-corrupted by human society
when he had been mortally alive, he’d been somehow self-trained,
self-prepared, self-educated, self-fashioned to always trust
evil for evil was so familiar, and hate and reject and mistrust
the light and the goodness it was so rare? That he would not
think to try and save himself through the forces of goodness,
but would prefer instead to wait around in hell-the most
familiar force? Until hell somehow allowed him to succeed in
taking command of the Inora, in hell’s name alone?
Since Patrick Watkins had witnessed the barred-window torn
from the A2-cell wall, Patrick Watkins had become one of
Robinson’s closest confidants. Watkins was as self-determined as
Robinson was, to track down Roger Madican James. In direct
contradiction, Michael Riordan had fled back to Washington and
his old World/life and womanizing ways. Michael Riordan actually
thought he didn’t care if the whole human race was destroyed, as
long as he got to live the high-life on Earth for what few
remaining years or decades he had left? Michael probably thought
there was no point in putting up a fight, that nothing could be
done about IT all? That the self-corruption was too compact and
complete, RO-Culture teachings to widespread, and as such he
might as well enjoy himself as best as he was able prior the
end? For if he tried to fight IT in the name of serving good, he
would suffer for nothing anyway, only twice as badly than he was
already fated to?
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
105
‘The broken handcuffs,’ Patrick Watkins was saying on the
other end of the line.
Robinson watched Dobbin hang so still and quiet, yet exude
such a powerful aura and atmosphere.
‘The warped bullet-heads Roger pushed back out of his
wounds after he was shot… Even the Colt .45 shell casings and
bullets you found littered around old man Anderson’s cemetery…
and the Colt .45 1911 itself secured in the property safe… Even
the RO-meat-chains, the ropes, the tools, the hooks, the ROkitchen utensils, and knifes Roger used on Dorothy Philpot… Have
all vanished!’
‘Dobbin got them all?’ Robinson asked. He already knew that
Dobbin had.
YOU KNEW?
WHO WAS THE MAN WHO ONCE DID NOT BELIEVE IN PSYCHICS?
REWARDS, ROBINSON!
UNTOLD, MORTAL WORLDLY
AND THEN NEAR ETERNAL SPIRITUAL REWARDS
FOR THOSE WHO CONFORM TO THE POSTMESCIC MIND GOD’S
SPIRITUAL-DREAMING-DEATH-BEAT-WILL LAW…
IT HAS ALREADY WON
BEST SIDE AND DEAL WITH IT WHILE YOU CAN…
IT IS THE TRUEST NATURE OF THIS IT’S DAMNATION GAME
THAT THOUGH THERE IS CONSTANT MOMENTS OF COMPLETE LOSS
SOMETHING IS ALWAYS GIVEN BACK IN RETURN
TO TEMPORARILY ECLIPSE/HIDE THE TRUE-VOID…
…Dobbin turned on his construction chain. His self-haunting
spiritual presence still here seemed to exude this message by
way of using Robinson’s spiritually dead UE as the psychic
medium.
‘After the call came in concerning the photo albums found
secreted in Dorothy Philpot’s command desk,’ Patrick Watkins
continued. ‘It was Dobbin who headed out to RO. When he returned
with the photo albums he immediately did what was expected of
him. He signed into the evidence room. With the exception of
that A2-cell window Roger somehow managed to tug out of the
jailhouse wall, Dobbin managed to clear every scrap of physical
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
106
evidence relating to the Roger Madican James case out of the
evidence room… And I mean everything!
‘Yet, no one remembers him entering or leaving! All we have
is Dobbin’s signature, and the wrong time and date signed into
the register logbook! Last week, Dobbin ignored the empty white
lines yet to be filled in, in a half-full page. He instead
turned to the very top of the next blank page. He signed in
tonight’s date, and this very time I am ringing you at, as the
time he entered the evidence room. He turned the book back to
the half-full page, so other visitors could fill in the
remaining blank lines. The freakish thing is, all the signatures
and dates and times subsequently entered by officers who signed
the register logbook since last week, exactly line up behind
Dobbin’s name and recorded date and time of entry. All the empty
lines Dobbin skipped are by now all filled. This has the effect
of making Dobbin’s signature, and recorded date and time of
official
entry
into
the
evidence
room,
look
completely
authentic. Only one fact betrays the work as a forgery, other
than the fact we know Dobbin is dead.
‘Last week, the blue-ink pen accompanying the register
logbook was near empty. It ran out two days after Dobbin used
it. A black-ink pen replaced it. Under different World/life
event/circumstances, I’d have figured maybe some other officers’
noted Dobbin’s name, and brotherhood on the force being what it
is…
‘But no! Never on a case this big! No one would dare!’
Considering all factors of this master bedroom World/life
scene, and how Robinson had initially reacted to IT after
waking, all implications became so complicated in Robinson’s
conscious mind, he could not even think coherently.
Patrick Watkins continued, ‘So Dobbin’s blue ink signature,
and officially recorded date and time of entry into the evidence
room, directly follow a name and date and time written in black
ink.’
‘O,’ Robinson said quietly…
…JINGLE-JANGLE…
DOUBT NOT MY SELF-HAUNTING GHOST’S CONSCIOUS-SANITY NOW
MIGHTY ROBINSON!
DOUBT NOT THERE ARE INDEED
GREAT POSTMESCIC-MIND-GOD-BESTOWED-REWARDS
AND ALL POSTMESCIC-MIND-GOD-INSPIRED-FUTURES
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
107
HAVE LONG SINCE BEING FORETOLD TO MY BEING
IN ADVANCE OF FINAL UNIVERSAL JUDGMENT DAY
THAT IS TO CONSUME ALL ROADS INEVITABLY ALL-LEADING THERE ALONE!
ALL TOLD TO I
THE MAN ONCE SNATCHED FROM THE INTENDED WORLD/LIFE SCENE
OF HIS FATED DEATH IN THAT FLAMING CRUISER OF MY OWN/ED
THAT IS BY NOW LONG SINCE EXPLODED ON THE SIDE OF THAT MAIN ROAD
WHOSE DISUSE ONCE RUINED HARVEY JAMMER’S BUSINESS
IN THE NAME OF PROGRESS!
AND WHERE IS HARVEY JAMMER’S GAS STATION NOW
AFTER THE DEMONIC JOKER/
POSTMESCIC HELL’S OWN/ED STEREOTYPE-ROGER
HAD SUCH A RITE FINE BLAST, ROBINSON
BUT JUST AS MUCH IN BITS AND PIECES
AS ARE THE ROASTED SHARDS OF MY CRUISER
STILL EMBEDDED IN THOSE TREES
LONG SINCE COOLED
THAT CAUGHT THEM LIKE A SPIDER’S WEB DOES FLIES/
PERMANENT RO-FILES…
…Dobbin’s hanged corpse seemed to exude these self-mocking
thoughts, again by way of using Robinson’s own/ed spiritually
dead UE-as the medium that obviously had the means within its
turbulent nature to let Robinson commune with the dead.
Robinson had no control over his UE. It now communicated to
his conscious mind the thoughts representing what Dobbin in such
close proximity, was really thinking and dreaming about.
Robinson could only try to intuit the message, and hope to make
some conscious sense out of IT all.
YOU READ IN THE KILLIAN SCHULL ESSAY HOMEWORK
AS NO TRULY IMMORTAL GOD HAS ANY INTEREST IN ANY WORKS
OF MORTALITY
HO, HO, HO
WHAT A GAS…
IT WAS LEFT TO IT TO SO FULLY GIVE ALL OF ITSELF
TO DUALLY MAKE THIS WHOLE EMERALD GREEN AND SKY BLUE
MORTAL WORLD/LIFE TO-ORDER
TO FLOAT IN EXPANSION OF IT’S NEAR-ETERNAL INTANGIBLE MYSTERY
TO THIS STILL HERE PRESENT AND TOO SAME DAY
OF WILFUL HUMAN CONSCIOUS-IGNORANCE/MYSTERY!
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
108
AND YET YOU, JUST ONE MAN, WITH JUST ONE MORTAL WORLD/LIFE RITE
DARE TO THINK YOUR LOT IS NOT TO QUESTION THE MIRACLE
OF ALL UNHOLY HORRORS
THE NATION OF THE PURE GODS DID PUT YOU FORTH
TO SO RELENTLESSLY AND SO UNMERCIFULLY TEST YOURSELF AGAINST
IN YOUR BID TO DEAL WITH IT
AND EVEN WHEN YOUR CONSCIOUS SANITY IS NO LONGER INTACT
AND YOU ARE RUN ON ACTION-REACTION
AUTOMATIC BLIND FAITH PILOT ALONE
BY THE FACT YOU ARE STILL HERE AT ALL
YOU LIKE TO THINK ALL OF THIS IS THE MIRACULOUS SIGN
THROUGH MEANS UNTOLD TO YOU
THAT YOU ARE SELF-TRUSTED ENOUGH
TO BE UP TO DEALING WITH THE BUSINESS OF RESOLVING
ALL OF IT’S SO, SO MYSTERIOUS WORKS
AND YOU STILL ON IT’S MORTAL-EARTH
REAL-DEVIL’S PLAYGROUND ALONE
AND ALL CERTAINTIES CONCERNING THE NEXTLIFE
SO ALIEN AND BADLY DEFINED AND SO UNKNOWN BY CONSCIOUS-HUMANS?
SELL OUT NOW!
SELLING OUT NOW FOR A BETTER TOMORROW IS NOT, OR EVER HAS BEEN
WHAT THE HUMAN WORLD/LIFE DOES DUALLY CLAIM SELLING OUT IS!
SELLING OUT IS BUT THE ACT
OF FINALLY BENDING TO ACCEPTANCE OF A DELUSIONAL STATE
OF MORAL BANKRUPTCY
IN A HUMAN WORLD/LIFE
THAT IS MORALLY BANKRUPTED AND DELUSIONAL ANYWAY
IN ORDER TO STOP THE MAJOR INTERNED CONFLICT WITH YOUR OWN/ED UE
AND WHERE IS THE GREAT WORLD/LIFE CRIME IN DOING THIS
WHEN THE POSTMESCIC MIND GOD IS THE ONE AND ONLY TRUE GOD OF ALL
AND YOU HAVE NEVER BEEN ANYTHING BUT DELUSIONAL
FROM DAY ONE ANYWAY, MIGHTY ROBINSON!
THERE IS BUT ONE DELUSION THAT CARRY’S THE HOPE
OF ONE TRULY IMMORTAL DAY BEARING FRUIT…
…THE DELUSION/ILLUSION…
Dobbin turned on his workman’s construction chain. Finally,
an authentic cracking sound seemed to be self-generated. Most
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
109
likely, it was the sound of mattress springs creaking as Lisa
stirred in her sleep due to troublesome dreams…
…JINGLE JANGLE
IN CRACKING AND BREAKING MY OWN/ED SELF-HANGED MORTAL’S
DUMMY-NECK
I’M CRACKING THE UNIVERSAL CODE
THAT IS THE ALL ENCOMPASSING TRUTH
THAT GOVERNS THIS HERE ENTIRE NEAR ETERNAL, BUT MORTAL UNIVERSE!
WHAT IS OF MORTALITY IS
IN IT’S TRUEST NATURE CAPABLE ONLY OF SELF-DEFEAT!
AND OVER THAT, THAT IS OF SELF-DEFEAT
THERE IS A HOPE OF AT LEAST ONE SOLE VICTORY TO BE WON
BY ONE ONCE OF TRULY DIVINE AND TRULY IMMORTAL
CONSCIOUS LIFE FORCE SPIRIT
WHO WILFULLY PLOT’S OUT THE BEST LAID PLANS
TO LAY HIS OWN/ED COFFIN PREMATURELY IN THE GROUND
SO HE MAY BRAVE THE JOURNEY DOWN
TO THE STATE/MIND POSTMESCIC/EMBODIMENT-HELL
TO LAY THE CHANCE OF BEING ABLE TO STAKE THAT CLAIM
OF FINAL VICTORY
WHEN HE FINALLY ARISES
AS THE CROWNED GODHEAD CONSCIOUS-MIND NUT JOB
THAT RAISES THE POSTMESCIC-BODY
INTO THE TRULY IMMORTAL INORA/ENAGMA HEAVEN GREAT BEYOND!
‘And yah! I checked,’ Patrick Watkins was saying on the
other end of the line. Watkins was utterly oblivious to the fact
that what was left of Dobbin was hanging rite here in the master
bedroom with Robinson. ‘No one else who signed the register
logbook over the last month, had any business on the Roger
Madican James case. While this workman, Dobbin reputedly killed,
was hanged not on one of the construction chains… but on one of
the very same RO-meat-chains Roger used to tie up Dorothy
Philpot out in the old slave cemetery. The workman’s RO-meatchain was padlocked with none other than two of the RO-padlocks
Roger also used to secure Dorothy Philpot in the old tool house!
‘The fact of the matter is Robinson the chain that hung the
corpse in the hall of permanent-RO-records wasn’t used by
construction workers at all. It was used in RO for hanging large
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
110
slabs of dead meat in the kitchens, where the meat was delivered
by delivery trucks.’
‘RO-meat… like the RO-seniors’ steaks Roger once thieved,
in order to betray to them what they really served and were,’
Robinson muttered quietly.
‘Exactly,’ Watkins said. ‘With the exception of the
uprooted A2-cell window, we’ve presently got no physical
evidence to back up our so very bizarre World/life story about
who Roger Madican James really is.’
‘Shit.’ Robinson’s voice sounded hoarse and alien even to
him in the depth of the cold and moonlight shattered nightlight.
‘That about covers IT,’ Watkins didn’t know the real reason
Robinson had cursed had been because the alien void had abruptly
and mercilessly tugged Dobbin back inside IT. All of IT had then
disappeared. A load of dust was left to sprinkle down upon the
carpet of the master bedroom. ‘We’ve got jack-shit! But that’s
not even the worst of the news I’ve rung you tonight to deliver
to you… I’ve saved the worst news for last…’
‘Go on then. Give IT to me.’
‘After inspecting the soggy damage, the Silver Springs
fire-department chief exited the hall. He uncovered a half-naked
workman with nothing but his vest and underwear on. He was
gagged and tied up in sickbay, C-Sector, 5W. As far as we can
determine, there is no other workman missing. Only one corpse
has been recovered from the hall of permanent-RO-records.
Robinson! After the firemen put out the fire, IT is most likely
the corpse found hung on the end of the RO-meat-chain, was no
one other than Dobbin himself! Or at least all that’s left of
him. And if it turns out Dobbin is indeed the corpse, you and
Michael Riordan will have made a lot of official statements that
simply will not hold water.
‘I can tell you now, it’s highly probable to be determined
there was no other fourth party in the hall with you and Michael
Riordan. The statements you and Michael have made will surely
hang you as lairs or madmen. Robinson! IT was you and Michael
that were half-possessed by Dobbin’s self-resurrected ghost, if
your own/ed minds let you imagine Dobbin to be physically
present in that enclosed room! So who exactly… how exactly did
that spilt gas manage to get lit, if Dobbin was already hung?’
So Dobbin was not a murderer at all, just a suicide? Yet,
even so, he refused to fight for truest salvation, deciding
instead he was better off down in hell-the most familiar force
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
111
to him, hoping to be chosen to become the conscious-crown nut
job heaved up upon the Postmescic-mind-God then Inora-bound?
That was an Inora that might try to spiritually heal him because
suicide was the ultimate self-punishment, something to pity not
condemn?
Robinson could vividly picture the ghostly World/life
scene. He pictured the torn and burnt photographs representing
Dorothy Philpot’s belief in reincarnation, and Dobbin’s ghost
laughing at him. Only now that World/life event/circumstances
self-motivated Robinson to dare to honestly reflect on the
unholy little earthly scene, did he understand the hung white
workman, had in fact been an image planted on a real corpse. The
image had represented how Dobbin would look if born white. Very
black skin could obscure even facial shadows, and so could
ensure large facial features looked smaller than they would
appear when the skin was white and shadows obvious. To add to
this, a strangling RO-meat chain could bloat a face?
Of course the corpse had been Dobbin’s corpse all along?
Only the skin had turned a pale gray and deathly white, and
Dobbin had been mocking the two living lawmen that didn’t really
see or properly remember any black men, because in racist
America black people just didn’t count? White people liked to
view black people as sub-human and make sure he and she were
treated as such and never amounted to much in this World/life,
and had no good future, no matter what talents or authentic high
intelligence a black person possessed? In fact, no matter what a
black person did to prove his or her self, white people would
refuse to do anything but look on the black person as sub human,
and so inferior to the white person, even when it was obvious
the truth was the complete reverse?
Now look at the mess Robinson was in. He had given official
statements that made him look like a madman?
‘Best get to work covering my ass then Watkins,’ Robinson
simply said. ‘Because I’m never going to come up with another
answer to explain who actually struck the match that lit the
gas, other than Dobbin’s ghost! We even felt his physical body
for Inora-mind-God’s sake…’ Again, he remembered how he had been
proven wrong even on this night. As a ghost, Dobbin was capable
of speaking his mind in various and much more elaborate levels,
than the living and still free could ever hope to manage. By
doing so, Dobbin was celebrating without remorse how he’d
destroyed all the Roger Madican James case evidence, and in the
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
112
process, had even managed to betray the real WHY behind his
thinking to the World/life of the still living, without having
to say a single word on the topic? Truest art then?
‘That’s exactly IT,’ Patrick Watkins said. ‘IT really was
Dobbin’s ghost somehow freed out here, on physical Earth, and he
capable of influencing the physical World/life. Don’t you see
what this means? When other than in comic book literature, I
know of no such authentic case of a ghost in exile from the
State/mind
Postmescic/Embodiment-hell?
With
the
power
to
physically interact with such precision, with the earthly
World/life and the living, and not even have to possess anyone?
‘This guy was capable of taking on the illusion of he
possessing a physical form so complex Michael could physically
shoot IT? And IT bled, as if in spirit it is in a complete body
working as one mind? And you two guys could see and touch and
manipulate the same solid thing? And you two guys’ self-trained,
self-prepared, self-educated, self-fashioned lawmen meant to be
more aware of the forces of evil than the average guy out in the
street?
‘The signs and omens forecasting, and in reflection,
prophesizing the end, and final collective universal judgment
day of us one and all, as if all is one… have freely crossed
over from the other side of the grave, to visit us here on this
Earth. These are signs and omens coming swift and fast to our
very home streets, Robinson! Swift, fast and in multitudes, and
are already out walking among us?
‘Think of IT Robinson. If people look hard enough,
everything found in physical Mother Nature, turns out to have a
pacific purpose, relating to something else in the World/life…
and as such helps another little bit, to balance this World/life
and the larger picture and keep all in harmonious sway?
‘You think all wars and murders are just random acts,
without predetermining self-significance? No, such evil crimes
are omens! And these Human Reason Victims the greatest omens of
all! They surely self-signify the end is all but upon us! That
we have self-judged ourselves collectively, failed human age
after failed human age, until finally we’ve done too much wrong
for too long… and have simply refused to self-learn from our
mistakes and do the rite thing… and are now to be truly selfpunished collectively!
‘These Human Reason Victims are even greater omens than
World wars! For this Reason evolving is the end result and the
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
113
final link in the Postmescic-mind-God-chain connecting all of
evil human history! As you yourself have said, UE was meant to
let us know when we were doing wrong… We were never meant to
evolve IT… never meant to consciously self-mirror with UE-drives
to hurt and destroy and punish and to take revenge and do UEpurpose bidding… that we were meant to do the complete reverse
of what UE-wished us to do, to think our way out of the UEhate/revenge drive, and to work out instead as conscious minds
why the UE-hate/revenge drive acted up in the first place in us,
and thus bring some sort of truth and justice to the proceedings
of what were the lies and delusions and injustices, and not
instead decide to mindlessly puke out yet more lies and
delusions to fill the failed World/life with! No pure Gods can
care about us now! We can have no allies left in Collective
Mother Nature given we have birthed IT back from IT’s original
spiritual universal blueprint grave! We have finally self-judged
ourselves collectively, and way beyond any hope of redemption!’
‘Tell me about IT,’ Robinson brooded.
‘Damn rite I’ll tell you… because IT’s over, all over.
Everything else we tell ourselves is nothing but conscious
denial… Or what Roger defined as CONSCIOUS DECODING…
‘What in Inora-mind-God’s good name are we meant to do now?
What next step, to stop the tides of self-corruption, and to
bring some conscious spirit and control to the Postmescic-mindGod-governed-proceedings? Fuck me… How to bring truth and
justice into the proceedings that are not just the injustices of
one single man’s life, but to the God of evil itself selfresurrected out of all unjust evil human history? What you doing
to do, take on all the lies and delusions and injustices of not
just the entire human race itself, but all of the past too, and
come out with what is the actual truth that can then safely
resolve all? The only reason we would even try to defeat IT, is
because we’ve seen IT all out in the open and so feel we are
forced against out better judgment to do something about IT-all…
Therefore, even our so-called desire to now do good too-late in
the damnation game, are selfish, self-serving motives… because
we don’t want to go to hell and ultimately to spiritual
extinction!’
‘Guess we learn how to make black-Postmescic-arts-readings…
predict then what next IT will do, and before IT does IT, we
counteract IT…’
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
114
‘Readings/psychic predictions nothing… Now, I’m not going
to tell you what to do, or what to believe Robinson… for what
you decide to do, and believe, is your rite as a free man… But I
am entitled to my own/ed opinions and choices. So I’ll cover for
you this one last time, but never again. I’m putting in for
early retirement. Until my retirement comes through, I don’t
want to rock the boat. No more covering. In peace and quiet, I’m
going to live out what few years this World/life has left. I am
simply going to deny IT and spend every last cent I have spent
my entire World/life saving, so I can ensure I can forget. I
mean exactly what do you think you are going to do to resolve
IT? Where are you going to even begin? Do you even know what the
first or last lie is, or even what is the millionth? And how to
bring justice and truth to what is long dead and gone and never
resolved in regard to all of evil human history past?’
‘Don’t know,’ Robinson admitted. ‘Maybe it might have been
better for me if I was never born, given I’ll never get to live
long enough to see the end beneficial results others will
benefit from, and that I will have to be tortured to get too…
But I’ll tell you this, before I’m true, I’m going to make sure
it would not be better for the World/life if I was never born…’
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
115
PART 3
(OF 3-PARTS)
Patrick Watkins hung up. Robinson turned on the master
bedroom light. There was a pile of dust on the carpet section
before the window. The heap of tightly meshed dust was selfrestricted to a very small area. Millions of dust particles were
so tightly crushed together-they formed many long strands that
broke apart when lifted too quickly. He grimaced in disgust. He
considered these particles had once formed Dobbin’s profile
clearly enough to all but frighten the World/life on out of him.
Unable to stand what concepts he associated with the dust
particles, he decided not to wait.
The sound of he vacuuming up the dust woke Lisa.
The next morning his wife Lisa was left genuinely
bewildered. ‘I could swear I dreamed you were vacuuming but a
minute or two? I don’t know what got into you, but you must have
been cleaning all night. I’ve never seen the bedroom so free of
dust… Can hardly be a speck of dust left. I swear I’m not saying
this just to ease my own workload… but boy do you have a real
talent that belittles mine. My God, even the furthest inner
wardrobe corner is free of dust, every last speck gone from the
cracks. Wish you’d feel the need to clean house more often!’
laughed his wife Lisa.
Once the dusty human form had been outlined through some
Vexation-framework-section, the Postmescic mind God had directed
Robinson’s spiritually dead UE to project the repressed image of
what Dobbin had really looked like hanging in the hall of
permanent-RO-records, onto the dust. This suggested that deep
down Robinson had known the truth all along, even when he had
been in the hall of permanent-RO-records, somehow been selftrained so he could then be set up to have such a vision in the
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
116
master bedroom. This meant by now, even Robinson’s own/ed
spiritually dead UE was constantly working against conscioushim, just as prophesized by his own/ed UE working in conjunction
with the Postmescic mind God. It was time then to leave go of
all his previous beliefs, to clean out the house that was his
conscious mind of all delusions and lies. He must immediately
begin to create entirely new news thoughts so he might have some
hope of safely dealing/managing IT-all. But how to begin such a
process at work in him since his very birth into a World/life
full of nothing but lies aimed to teach him to think like such a
fool?
He didn’t know exactly how yet, but he did know it all came
down to the concept that the whole RO-Culture concept was a
concept inspired by a mere UE-learning aid of the subject of
Postmescic mortality, into the mind of man, for man to then
self-create for the human race the RO-Culture to serve, so UE
would have the best chance to self-corrupt with evil all people
filled with a UE-drive to wish to fit into society, get on, and
thrive there? Until all that was left was no mere UE-learning
aid on the subject of Postmescic mortality, but an actual
universal World/life event/circumstance-churning, universal-UEfating mold over which was fitted a flabby conscious horror mask
self-voided of all the true stuff of humanity, like the human
skin could fit over the death skull?
So maybe there was some truth to the Religious idea that
been a persecuted outcast had merit of some form? If the law was
that if one wanted to do good-then one had to do the complete
reverse thing of what the evil-purpose-serving RO-Culture said
one should do? Yet, how to do this without ending up like Roger
Madican James? How to break the UE-drive to wish to fit into
society and to be so concerned about what the human herd
thought, one would go to war and risk dying just to kill people
just to avoid the neighbors saying one was a coward? How to
break from the herd collective mindset? And yet have no more
personal connections with the human herd that could be used by
the human herd to damage the person out to work out the entirely
new news truth? Would it be enough just to do what society would
condemn one for, that would cause one to feel humiliated when
the UE tried to set up a poor self-image in reaction to the fact
the human herd was all against the individual standing alone?
There was truth in this. Real truth. Yet again The Post/man
had said IT all that was worth saying with his talk of
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
117
SALESMAN/ACTOR/UNDER/COVER WORK/PLAYING FICTITIOUS ROLES THAT
WERE NOT EVEN REAL, BUT WHICH EVIL PEOPLE FELT DRIVEN TO BELIEVE
WERE REAL DUE TO THE UE-HATE/REVENGE DRIVE TO DESTROY THE ACTOR
WHO PLAYED THE PART OF A MAN SOCIETY WANTED TO DESTROY?
In the hall of permanent-RO-records, the walking, talking
and smiling Dobbin really must have been a being, made up of
swirling clouds of black ash raised from the photographs Dorothy
Philpot had collected while looking to find her reincarnated
brother David Philpot. This though was not what most concerned
Robinson. Dobbin, just like all of the damned, was down in the
State/mind Postmescic/Embodiment-hell dreaming of becoming the
conscious crown nut job heaved up upon the Postmescic-mind-God,
rising IT’s entire spiritual body into the Inora. Despite the
fact that it was highly unlikely that such an arrogant force as
the Postmescic mind God was, would ever tolerate a victory
dependent on the aid of a lowly conscious life force spirit? Or
any such conscious life force spirit would have had the required
bizarre World/life experiences/self-training that would allow
the Postmescic mind God to slip in with it in the guise of its
expected mortal World/life pain/trauma of the spirit developed
in reaction to the most unusual life/history he or she had
lived? So much for his hope the damned down under the State/mind
Postmescic/Embodiment-hell that helped support the Postmescic
mind God, might try to rebel?
He thought of RO-Culture, and how Dobbin had appeared
before him last night. He knew this rebellion down under the
State/mind Postmescic/Embodiment-hell would never happen. Not as
long as there was even a vague hope of one victory to be won,
for one of the too-ambitious, self-obsessed damned, suffering
down there. As such he’d better forget all about counting upon
this vague hope for there been a rebellion down in hell to aid
his pathetic efforts to win the damnation game.
Once the damned became the damned, they all stayed put.
They would rather see the entire World/life of the living long
dead and gone, before they gave up on self-entertaining evil
thoughts and delusions as representative of how they wished to
view and define reality. They had not become the damned for
nothing. He thought THEY instead of HE and SHE, because once the
mortal body was gone, there was just a sexless spirit.
He remembered Pete Davie. Even when told about the UE, what
had Pete Davie done? He had turned around and summoned UEgenerated hate and spite, and had ranted and raved Roger was
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
118
mentally ill? Pete Davie had simply denied, denied, and then
denied yet again there was a UE? He had refused to care or workto change the UE-human pawn status quo, even when given the
correct information that should allow him to go about doing so?
And especially so, given he had held a position as a teacher in
charge of many young minds? In the next-World/life, if anything,
this UE-hate/revenge-drive, down in hell the most unjust place
full of all lies, would even be stronger?
What hope then, of winning the damnation game?
The problem for Robinson was that if humanity was to be
self-judged collectively, Robinson couldn’t even count on the
fact that he should at least work to try and save himself. The
fact was when the majority went down to the State/mind
Postmescic/Embodiment hell they’d drag everyone else down with
them? Why should it be any other way? In World/life, during such
things as wars and crimes and man-made famines, the innocent
were always butchered and killed and raped and abused and
slaughtered alongside the wicked-probably so wicked because
society was such a complete failure? Hell self-created on Earth
then? Why then should the spiritual laws that governed the next
World/life be any different than the type of spiritual laws that
governed this World/life? Was that all he had left to go on,
blind faith in nothing definable? Basically then, given all he’d
already been put through… and his UE following inalterable
patterns having to react to what he had gone through… and as
such forcing him to form DCC-made-with-UE against his conscious
will not to… he had nothing left now but conscious decoding?
Yet, Roger had long since defined conscious decoding in his
Killian Schull essay homework, and look at what had happened to
conscious-Roger…
Robinson
blinked.
He
began
to
realize
some
actual
worthwhile truth his mind was fighting for him to realize as an
independent conscious being… Yes, he’d fed information into his
unconscious mind, and because he was honest and good and truly
desired with all of his heart to do only good and always be as
truthful and as honest as possible no matter how great the true
World/life horror show, his mind, despite all DCC-made-with-UE
raising negative energy aimed to destroy and thwart and stop all
understandings and worthwhile and beneficial conscious thoughts,
was fighting to let him know what next he must do… After all, if
human beings were to be damned, each human had to know rite from
wrong?
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
119
Then when he remembered all the Religious dogma he’d been
raised to believe in, he had to laugh. Given what he was out to
do, he knew his work would take countless years and endless
work… There was no such thing as divine inspiration, holy
spirits and helping angels… There were just unconscious
intellects following inalterable patterns in reaction to what
World/life events/circumstances/miss-information was in the
external environment, and he the conscious being left to work as
hard as he could with what tiny shreds of true information he
now had to work with, and that other humans did not have…
This was not to be sniffed at. Practically all other humans
out there had no worthwhile information to try and build upon…
All he and she had was lies and yet more lies and delusions and
worthless definitions designed at the very least, to selfcorrupt and ultimately destroy the thinking processes and
imaginations… In a way then, though he knew he was too suffer
greatly, he felt blessed in his own/ed so little way. He had a
shred of actual authentic truth to work and build upon, that no
one else, save the divined Players, had.
Or was he just trying to kid himself yet again, reverting
to the cheap black art of conscious decoding because he was not
really honest, was not ready to face the true World/life horror
show for what IT really was in all of its so hideous majesty?
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
120
6
(IN 3-PARTS)
PART 1
(OF 3-PARTS)
Dobbin
had
delivered
an
entirely
new
news
message
concerning how Roger Madican James would be returning for he and
she all as if one. There was then always the chance PostmescicRoger might try to use Robinson’s earthly World/personal
connections, namely his immediate family, to get at Robinson, if
the Postmescic mind God’s aim was to fill conscious-Robinson
with such UE-inspired evil, Robinson himself became evil enough
to do enough wrong with his World/life, for he to be ultimately
self-convinced, he to, was the Postmescic mind God’s rightfully
won damned property.
Robinson visited Richmond. He drove there in the van he’d
taken to RO in order to collect the files from the hall of
permanent-RO-records. Now the van contained high-tech security
equipment. His sister Mary was a schoolteacher. She was married.
She had taken her husband’s surname, He/s/grave. His brother
Richard was a respected doctor. Richard had a thriving practice.
Hearing a depraved, highly dangerous and vindictive killer
was on the loose, and his earthly World/life location not known
to anyone, of if it was, anyone who was willing to come forward,
Mary and Richard agreed to be cautious. Robinson installed his
and her homes with the most advanced security system he’d been
able, under Michael Riordan’s advice, to get his hands on. He
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
121
wrote down and explained the point of certain security
procedures Mary and Richard should follow when going about his
and her daily World/lives. Also how he and she should leave and
reenter his and her homes. Richard and Mary had read all about
Roger Madican James’ barbaric crimes. Although Mary and Richard
were initially uneasy and respectful of Robinson’s warnings, he
knew within a year of not one reported sighting of Roger Madican
James, Mary and Richard would all but forget about Roger Madican
James, and give up on following security procedures.
Patrick Watkins wasn’t much help. Yes, Watkins made the
best use out of his vast resources while trying to locate Roger
Madican James. Yet there was little else Watkins felt he could
do until Roger was apprehended. IT was by now only PostmescicRoger himself, who self-constituted the only physical evidence
that
could
support
the
lawmen’s
wild
claims,
theories,
speculation and stories.
Robinson looked upon Roger’s physical absence as a
World/life time period necessary for him to self-train, selfprepare, self-educate, self-style and to learn how to play the
Postmescic mind God’s damnation game. He knew that all the
answers he required should come to him, if he studied and
explored, and he researched what he had left of Roger’s Killian
Schull essay homework. No doubt IT would be just typical of the
Postmescic mind God to as good as find some way to lay out as
good as a blueprint-containing fixed and irreversible spiritual
laws and definitions, of how three good conscious-humans could
win the damnation game, for humans in advance of the damnation
game
actually
being
played.
Then,
when
conscious-humans
dismissed such a work, or failed to work out how to win, the
Postmescic mind God would have even more evidence IT could use
as IT’s proof, to prove to the nation of the pure Gods why
conscious-humanity had been such a selfish and evil-purposeserving and failed race, he and she had all deserved to be selfdestroyed.
The truth was that the reason conscious-humans made so many
poor decisions was because he or she made all of his or her
decisions in reaction to UE-compulsions and drives. Not in
reaction to pure conscious logic that stemmed from the conscious
soul. Yet there was also the point to consider that it had been
the young conscious-Roger, a compassionate spirit, somehow
knowing instinctively what his mortal World/life rite was going
to represent to all of conscious humanity, who had instinctively
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
122
driven himself to create the Killian Schull essay in advance of
the Players actually trying to play the damnation game. Surely,
the compassionate side of conscious-Roger had wished the good
Players to win? Due to the Killian Schull essay homework been an
instinctive response to Roger entering RO-Culture, when Roger
had simply poured out all information in his unconscious into
the Killian Schull essay homework, Robinson figured that Roger
had covered all aspects of the damnation game laws, worth
knowing. And even if conscious-Roger himself had not been sure
he had at the time? Or even if conscious-Roger himself had not
known what he had been really at, at the time?
Robinson felt he should now be able to work out many of the
answers he required to know if he was to win the damnation game.
He’d just have to go over and over both Robinson’s own/ed
personal World/life experiences, both natural and alien, and
Roger’s
World/life
experiences,
and
the
Killian
Schull
watchmaker essay homework? There, he must try to find out where
consciousness
ended,
and
UE-judgments,
and
UE-directed
conscious-thought-patterns, and the UE-hate/revenge/drive to
upset the intended plan began. He had to become an expert on all
UE-inspired states of minds, and UE-inspired thought-patterns.
He had to know how to relate these states of mind and thoughtpatterns back to the real inspirational core cause that was UE
alone. All drama was mere self-camouflage conscious humans
believed in, so ultimately the alternative UE-purpose to destroy
all of humanity could be achieved somewhere down the drama line?
Through such things as wars, crime, mental illness and man made
famine. Robinson had to, in some way, be able to instantly
recognize each piece of drama camouflage a human could come out
with, for what IT really represented. He had to know how to
dismantle not just the evil-purpose serving and so judgmental
information back down to what IT really represented. He also
then by definition had to know how by bringing real truth and
justice in to the proceedings of lies and delusions, to remove
the DCC-made-with-UE association through which the so-called
dramatic information was rising through in order to connect with
the conscious mind in the first place.
In a sense then, he would know how to break all and any
DCC-made-with-UE that could or would arise in Roger Madican
James in reaction to the fact that Roger Madican James had been
somehow
self-trained,
self-prepared,
self-educated,
selffashioned to think in a certain evil way due to RO-Culture
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
123
teachings/practices, and also due to conscious Roger’s reaction
to such information/practices, when next Robinson confronted
Roger Madican James. Hopefully then, he would be able to free
conscious Roger Madican James from the Postmescic mind God’s
possessive influence and knock IT off Roger’s back, literally,
like a rider from a buckling stallion. How long this state of
freedom from DCC-made-with-UE could last in conscious-Roger, he
didn’t know. He only did know that the Postmescic mind God
thought it could hook up with conscious-Roger, through the
shallow end true-independent-conscious-self-misleading byproduct
of evil inspired ideas that resulted in conscious-Roger due to
the DCC-made-with-UE RO-Culture forced Roger against his better
conscious-judgment to form. The Postmescic mind God thought IT
could self-disguise itself as an apparent realistic explanation
for Roger’s mortal worldly pain, only to be expected to be what
IT was after the World/life history Roger had lived. The
Postmescic mind God thought then IT could rise with the
conscious life force spirit Roger Madican James into the Inora
mind
God,
where
the
instinctive-Inora-body
following
predetermined and irreversible spiritual laws-the-Inora-body
would work to spiritually heal Roger of his earthly World/life
pain. Then the Postmescic mind God could self-pollute and take
command of the Inora, just like IT had once self-polluted and
taken command of conscious-Roger, and turned a man with such a
fine mind and talents and intelligence into a barbaric murderer
and rapist.
Yet all of this then had to mean that there was still some
authentic good conscious life force spirit in Roger that was
capable of being self-salvaged if not saved, and that Robinson
could work with. If conscious-Roger and Robinson worked together
for good, then together, conscious-Roger and Robinson should be
able to undo all DCC-made-with-UE. They could then, working
jointly, throw the Postmescic mind God off of conscious-Roger’s
back, prior to his mortal death?
If only Robinson could discover when Roger Madican James
was fated to physically die, so Roger could become his very
own/ed truly final Human Reason Victim? At least then, so close
to his mortal World/life end, surely his hour of greatest need,
Robinson might be able to temporarily free conscious Roger from
IT’s possessive grip, just before Roger’s mortal death? As such
Robinson could hope to defeat the Postmescic mind God’s plans of
coming to dominate the Inora?
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
124
The fact was that if Robinson just went out there, and
tried to heal conscious-Roger of all DCC-made-with-UE wherever
he found Roger, the worldwide RO-Culture would soon selfconspire to ensure all DCC-made-with-UE would eventually reform
within conscious-Roger? And Roger would become Postmescic-Roger
again? This was a fact of existence.
The real reason the UE-was unstable was because Mother
Nature had self-designed the human being to self-punish as long
as the human being tried to live/exist in the failed World/life
that therefore made the UE unstable until the fair and just and
intended World/life was created for all. In RO-Culture everyone
was self-trained, self-prepared, self-educated, self-fashioned
to be out for the self, yet Mother Nature had decided the
complete reverse was the actual truth where IT was collective
humanity as a race that mattered, not the individual.
Collectively humanity was made then to self-punish through the
creation of such things as war, famine, crime and mental illness
etc. Then no one got to be happy. Thus if Robinson saved
conscious-Roger from IT-all, by undoing all DCC-made-with-UE,
what good would IT do? If conscious-Roger still existed in the
failed World/life, the Postmescic mind God would immediately
reform in conscious-Roger. As Robinson had said this was about
collective humanity, all born equal, not the individual out to
self-satisfy the UE-hate/revenge-drive by reducing other human
beings to the truest nothing nobody, no ones. Each individual
thought he and she was so very important, better than the next
guy. Yet all such people were following the UE-hate/revenge
drive self-designed by the forces that are Collective Mother
Nature to ensure when one sided with the UE-hate/revenge drive
then one was out not against any one person or concept as the
individual might like to think, but against the nation of the
pure Gods intended plan for humanity to follow. Therefore all
information created and then bombarded into society by the UEhuman pawns following the UE-hate/revenge drive, was pacifically
self-designed by UE to turn conscious-Roger into the PostmescicRoger. As such conscious-Roger could not be saved for very long
as long as he was immersed in a RO-Culture, for just by being
immersed in RO-Culture, all the evil information that filled ROCulture, would have to trigger the DCC-made-with-UE-associations
the drama-aimed to destroy conscious Roger the RO-orphans had
turned Roger into the end focal point of, had caused to form in
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
125
Roger so the Postmescic mind God could then slip in as part of
some all-reflective self-judgment on the collective human race.
No! It would be for the best to get conscious-Roger alone,
not long before his actual and final mortal death, when he was
about to make his final staged exit from this World/life for
good? And where Roger was well away from any RO-Culture people,
who would instinctively, if not willfully, self-conspire to join
in on the unconscious evil conspiracy to destroy consciousRoger, in order to achieve the Postmescic-mind-God’s recreation
agenda alone?
The only date Robinson had to work with, in regard to this
idea, was the date May-8th. According to one of the Post/man’s
letters sent to Robinson, just before his own/ed mortal death
the RO-care/taker Charley Burn had asked Roger to remember him
come the final May-8th-day. It was not lost on Robinson that May8th was also the date of Roger’s birthday as what he could only
hope was an authentic human being.
Robinson could not dare to risk that the Inora mind God
would know how to deal with the Postmescic mind God. The Inora
mind God was an instinctive body-the sum of fixed and
irreversible spiritual laws. It simply oversaw the passage of
conscious souls and conscious life force spirits to Earth to be
born, and in death, oversaw their passage back to Inora-mind-God
heaven. After all, according to Roger Madican James, it was the
conscious spirit sphere that was meant to use the unconscious
intellects and the soul, as the conscious spirit sphere’s
slaves/learning aids, not vice versa. It was the conscious
spirit with free will that then decided its own/ed spiritual
destiny, and what type of a unique self-styled being it would
ultimately evolve into. The Inora mind God was just another one
of many spiritual-fool-tools that allowed for this status quo in
existence. As such, if left to his own/ed devices, and left
unaided, conscious spirit sphere Roger-hooked up with the
Postmescic mind God, might be able to turn the Inora mind God
into his fool-slave? Just as much as the Postmescic mind God had
once turned conscious-Roger into IT’s fool-slave?
The idea of helping conscious Roger Madican James not long
before his true and final physical/mortal death occurred, seemed
best. If Robinson was to get to Roger just hours, or even an
hour prior to conscious-Roger’s actual final mortal World/life
death, then maybe, if only he could self-style the self well
enough with all truths, like a death bed exorcist, Robinson
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
126
might manage to totally unhinge conscious Roger from the
Postmescic mind God’s self-possessive grip? And before the
Postmescic mind God could find a way to get into conscious Roger
again DCC-made-with-UE-style, conscious Roger would mortally
die? Then his conscious life force spirit would be forever freed
from his earthly vessel and earthly World/life responsibilities?
Then the independent conscious-life-force-spirit-Roger would get
to return alone to the Inora mind God for another shot at
reincarnation, and to get his mortal World/life rite, rite, the
next time around?
To be in such a position to know exactly and precisely what
to do, at such a future time, meant Robinson now beginning to
document every last thought he’d ever had in his World/life
history to date. He wrote and rewrote those thoughts until he
gleamed some essential core truth of where they stemmed from,
and what they’d stemmed in reaction to. And if they stemmed from
UE, then he needed to know how to defeat their nightmarishly
paradoxical logic so he could in a sense break down, and
untangle the DCC-made-with-UE they were responsible for forming
in conscious-Roger.
Once Robinson figured out how his own/ed conscious mind was
manipulated by UE, surely then, he could begin to use those toosame spiritual/psychological rules, to see how other conscious
humans were being manipulated by IT/UE? And how in turn mass
World/life social patterns were been manipulated and as such
created due to IT/UE? In doing this he would by definition get
forever closer to the Postmescic mind God truth? Finally then,
when he could work out this much, he could begin to relate his
deeply personal results born out of deeply personal tried and
tested World/life experience, back to the Killian Schull essay
homework, and as such, back to conscious Roger?
Around and around as if for time without end the crazy
self-defeating, self-mirroring logic seemed to go… But how could
he see his way out of IT all that was the ultimate nightmarishly
paradoxical trap, with just so many paradoxical nightmarish
layers?
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
127
PART 2
(OF 3-PARTS)
Robinson started work on his autobiography. He went through
his World/life year by year, month by month, week by week, day
by day, event by event, thought by thought, repeatedly rewriting
every thought and experience he could remember having had, selftracing his exact development from innocent child to selfcorrupted man. He got to know his independent conscious self,
and
how
he’d
been
often
self-hoodwinked
by
unconscious
intellects, better than ever before. He came to know himself
better than he could have hoped. It was liberating. Through this
he learned how other people were been manipulated by IT all. He
also practiced editing down each line of text, and removing all
irrelevant details of his autobiography. This helped him to
focus his conscious mind. It helped to self-train, self-prepare,
self-educate, self-style his conscious thought patterns to
follow
tightly
controlled,
and
restricted
patterns
that
automatically related all overblown and complicated so-called
human World/life truths, to the very simple rules documented in
Roger’s Killian Schull essay homework. This meant if Robinson
had to deal with any so called accepted good ideas in
society/the fashions/the so called rage of the day, that weren’t
good at all, he could quickly dismantle those ideas/mental vomit
back down to the real UE-architect. He could then dismiss those
ideas as the DCC-made-with-UE-making nonsense they really were,
backed up by nothing but a UE-hate/revenge drive to upset the
intended plan for all World/life to follow.
Yet, in understanding how he had gone so far wrong in his
World/life, he came to understand how society had gone so far
wrong. As such, he had some hope of understanding how consciousRoger had gone so far wrong into Postmescic mind God self-
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
128
possession? Then he could work out how to remove any and all
DCC-made-with-UE that formed in Roger when next the two humans
met.
He went through newspapers, magazines, books and films. He
used the Killian Schull watch mechanics and definitions to
relate every idea he came across, back to source-inspiration-UEcore of a standard design and following fixed and irreversible
patterns in each and every unconscious human mind. He timed
himself to ensure he was getting increasingly more mentally
quick. If he was to effectively deal with Roger Madican James,
and hope to stop Roger from becoming his truly final Human
Reason Victim while Roger still had a morally bankrupt
conscious-mind
directly
under
the
Postmescic
mind
God’s
influence, then Robinson could never once make the error of
descending into socially acceptable, but nonetheless evilpurpose serving thinking. If he did so, conscious-Roger would
immediately become the Postmescic-mind-God. He would self-judge
Robinson to be an irrelevant self-named spiritual failure/error
and flawed human sinner best removed then from both mortal
World/life and the Inora-reincarnation-system. Roger would then
surely kill Robinson, either by physical means, or Human Reason
Victim-style. Considering that Robinson wished to come upon
Postmescic-Roger upon his final earthly hours, that as such
would be Roger’s hour of greatest need, that as such should
compel Roger to wish for Robinson to come to his aid like a
personal savior, then, through all his hard work on the subject
of evil, Robinson might in fact only serve the Postmescicpurpose? By Robinson himself becoming the means Roger used, to
turn Roger into his own/ed final Human Reason Victim?
After months of spending most of his day working at his
typewriter, Robinson had withdrawn into his own/ed private
World/life. Was there any difference then, since his mere
perception of the external World/life had, and was controlled by
his internal World/life? If anything he could only examine the
effect the external World/life had on his internal World/life,
and thus through this process examine how the unconscious mind
reacted to the external World/life, while he remained the
detached conscious witness caught in between two conflicting
forces, one out to react off the other? At best, he put in a
four-hour day as Sheriff of Silver Springs. His two deputies
handled the majority of the work. He usually showed up at the
office. Then he’d mention in passing that he was going out on
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
129
patrol. He’d really go home to his head office, or head upstairs
to his Sheriff’s head office and do his R.M.J. work up there.
He knew the more lost in his own/ed private World/life he
became, the better. Such a state of mind helped to unhinge him
from societies invading negative influence and complicated
mythological belief systems-the so-called fashions/rage of the
present day, self-designed by the evil hate/revenge drive to
mislead one from the truth of the conscious soul and IG. It was
then a state of mind that got him reacting directly to his
own/ed unconscious intellects influence, not influenced by
external society, but by what information and World/life
experiences he selected to go through.
In short, he was going about the business of destroying one
shallow delusion after another that reflected the shallowest
form of thinking inspired as a mere shallow end trueindependent-conscious-self-misleading byproduct outgrowth of UE.
Yet IT was the type of negative/evil-purpose-serving-thinking
self-camouflage human society had somehow stuffed his mind full
of over the decades, since his very birth into the human
World/life. No more than Roger as a young kid used to kid
himself that he was working undercover in order to avoid facing
the fact people really were out to get him and to hurt and to
torture him, Robinson simply pretended his work was fiction so
the so very real World/life horror/universal truth he was
becoming aware of, did not cause him to be overpowered by souldestroying despair. When out in society, where everything people
thought and said and did was designed to destroy all conscious
life so IT could win by being recreated in place of conscious
humanity, IT became personalized. He then felt the desire to
shout and roar about the great injustice and true horror of IT
all. Then, instead of been driven to work out truth and justice
as was intended for he to do, he’d fall foul of a paradox snare
and was then prone to primal hate that mislead his conscious
thinking processes into mindless self-destructive cycles-that
lead him no place good when he lost all conscious-perspective
and was reduced to a mindless animal going on mindless evil
instinct.
In short, he dismissed everyone. On occasion he shouted at
his wife Lisa, ‘How dare you waste my World/life time with your
primal-UE-mind inspired, shallow end true-independent-consciousself-misleading byproduct of UE camouflage that hides the real
UE-purpose, nonsense! Don’t you understand woman-that I’m
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
130
working! Working! Working! Can’t you get that through your thick
head yet! I don’t give a damn about anything else! I never will
again, no matter what! I don’t give a damn about money! I don’t
give a damn about my job! I don’t gave a damn what the neighbors
think, who hate the bad publicity Roger has brought to his and
her home town-the whole Nation now sees as wicked enough to have
created a mass murderer! And I will never, ever change, just
because of your primal-UE-mind induced fears in regard to money
and the future!
‘If you only understood the actual hellish purpose and evil
you really serve, but can’t really see because you have some
degree of a healthy conscious mind and sense of independent self
to hide IT all from you, you would feel exactly what I do. You
do not know what you are really siding with woman!
‘So go sell you primal—UE-mind-inspired shit elsewhere! If
IT’s not one thing, IT will be another! No matter how much the
World/life changes… or what new inventions or cultures or
fashions there are, out there… the exact same evil rules and
evil spiritual laws, are running the same tired old bullshit ROCulture true World/life horror show… No one ever getting past
step one!’
Lisa never mentioned her nagging when she told her mother
about how Robinson had started to shout. Lisa made the conscious
decision to describe Robinson shouting as…
George ranting and raving like a self-obsessed madman!
To avoid UE-inspired internal conflict, when Robinson felt
the nagging Lisa trying to thwart his chosen direction in
World/life and she willfully sided with UE-hate/revenge-drives
that basically came down to a bunch of stupid primal-UE-mind
inspired fears and the desire to punish and destroy in some waythat would not exist if UE did not exist in her, he self-learned
to walk out of his two-story, white washed wood house to the
small front garden, guarded by a wood picket fence.
By the end of each day when he lay down his head to sleep,
he had nightmares. He walked through strange foreign lands. The
human race had gone insane. Humans were butchering one another
for pleasure. There was always human-made famine and war and
mental illness and crime. The excuses humans made up for this
behavior were diverse and many, but never reflective of the
actual UE/Postmescic-mind-God recreating truth.
Nightly, he bolted awake. He was consumed with both
physical and spiritual nausea and terror. He was unable to get
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
131
back to sleep. He would be up in the dead of the cold and lonely
night. He would wander through the dark and empty downstairs
rooms. Even when he turned on the lights he would sense the cold
night pressing against the windows outside. IT really was as if
IT was threatening to envelop him, and lose him in the blinding
chilly dark of IT’s own/ed internal cold spiritual Postmescic
universal blueprint tomb. Internally, he felt a spiritual cold
filling his sick mind with images that the World/life was
already as good as dead and gone. He would shiver in spiritual
trauma whenever he saw a photograph in a newspaper, or some film
footage on television of humans starving in manmade famines, or
self-slaughtered in manmade wars, or blown up by a Mafia Bomb.
Throughout all of this his UE brooded in a cold selfsatisfaction in the unconscious background. UE continued with
its instinctual and repetitive self-defense tactics to stop him
from getting to the essential core foundational truth of UE.
Life and the entire human-World had never looked so utterly
insane. He could not believe how blind and ignorant conscioushumans truly were. How could this human World/life exist as IT
did? It was mass insanity? He was aware that all of these traits
he was exhibiting, would be diagnosed as very common symptoms
easily diagnosed as representing depression. This was why
psychology was evil. His depression was just a sign the
Postmescic mind God had designed UE to stop people from figuring
out the truth of the anti-conscious UE intellect at the source,
and how UE really operated as an isolated intellect, and what
for. In the face of evil out to destroy all, and when living in
a failed society with a failed belief system and a failed way of
doing things, and this human society never intended to be if the
nation of the pure Gods were anyone to go by, people were meant
to feel bad. People were meant to feel a spiritual-mortaldeath/self-destruct/self-punish-UE-drive to mindlessly destroy a
society in some way because this society had never intended to
be. The fact that people decided to destroy the self instead of
fighting to change the failed World/life into the intended human
World/life was beyond belief! The fact that no one other than
Roger Madican James had self-defined the real truth, and people
were given misleading labels and definitions to latch on to, to
explain World/life experiences, meant he or she ended up
confused and mentally ill. Rather than knowing the real why and
the how that could make him or her well again, DCC-made-with-UE
turned into PP:FCIC-made-with-IG.
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
132
Often, when he was up at night, and returned upstairs to
check on Lisa and his son little Richard-named after his brother
the doctor, he would fear he would find two corpses waiting for
him in the beds. Despite how increasingly spiritually sick he
was becoming he continued with his work-that caused him such
relentless and seemingly never-ending self-torment.
I EXPECT NO PERSONAL REWARD, NOT EVER… THE REST OF MY
WORLD/LIFE IS TO BE ABOUT TOTAL SELF-SACRIFICE…
The Post/man had written in one of his anonymous letters.
BUT IF I AM TO SUFFER ANYWAY, I MIGHT AS WELL SUFFER FOR A
TRULY GREAT WORK… SUCH AS CREATING THE TRUE AND FINAL RELIGION
THAT FINALLY EXPLAINS THE TRUTH OF ALL SPIRITUAL LAWS REGARDING
HUMANITY… GOOD CONSCIOUS LIFE CAN NOT LIVE WITH ANY WORKS THAT
ARE A BY-PRODUCT OF ANTI-CONSCIOUS EVIL, AND YET PRETEND SUCH
WORKS ARE GOOD AND BENEFITIAL… IF CONSCIOUS HUMANITY TRIES TO,
CONSCIOUS HUMANITY WILL BE DRIVEN TO SELF-DESTROY AND SELFPUNISH THE SELF AND EVERYONE AND EVERYTHING AROUND THE SELF… AND
HAVE NOTHING AT THE BEST OF TIMES BUT CONSCIOUS DECODING TO
SELF-JUSTIFY DOING THIS…
His physical appearance drastically deteriorated because he
wished IT to. Rumors began to circle around town he was mentally
unbalanced. It was been suggested an official election for a new
Sheriff should be held. He was losing weight. This was due to
his alien-cancer, not his obsession with his work. This was
another point that both mislead his thinking processes and yet
aided him. A fear one was dying of cancer was a sign one was
depressed. Yet he really was dying of an alien’s cancer? All
fears were due to UE. After all if he hooked up with IG and the
soul he became self-convinced of the actuality of truly immortal
spiritual life being on offer, and he only laughed in amusement
at the concept of so-called mortal death ending all and as such
IT was something to be feared, when in reality, real spiritual
death was all one could know as long as one lived in an evil
purpose serving World/life?
Getting close to UE ensured spiritual decay that an
ignorant conscious mind could confuse as an invading deathly
disease. As such he had to take some primal fears concerning his
physical health seriously, and yet his job was to self-resurrect
primal-UE-inspired thoughts out of his own/ed unconscious mind
for him to then study? He felt IT was trying to trap him in some
nightmarishly paradoxical logic every which way, every step of
the way? Knowing he was going to die anyway, helped free him
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
133
into a state of mind where he simply accepted he was nothing, he
was going to die soon, and be self-judged on his World/life
history anyway, and so he had no choice but to continue with his
work. He knew one way or another he was soon to be on his
deathbed being told this was IT, he could suffer and endure all
he wanted, but he wasn’t going to be healed or made well, the
end was coming no matter what, no physical escape. He was
constantly looking for any way to advance his work.
Where? How?
STARTING OUT, THOUGH DEALT NOTHING OF WORTH TO GO ON…
…A SYMBOLIC MILESTONE HUNG AROUND YOUR VERY OWN/ED SELF-HANGED
DUMMY’S NECK…
…ONE MORE… FOR EVERY MILE…
TILL ANOTHER LONG TRAVELLING AND WEARIED BLUFFING GAMBLER
BENDS UNDER THE WEIGHT
AND TURNS IN ORDER TO LAY BARE
HIS VERY LAST DEALT AND VERY POOR LOOSING HAND…
FINALLY WORN OUT AFTER LONG HOURS OF WORK
YOU LAID YOUR HEAD DOWN ONLY TO BE LOST TO STORMING DREAMS
SO NOW YOU FINALLY HEAR MY CAUTIONARY NOTE OF WARNING!
DELUSIONAL CLOWN DUMMY CONSCIOUS-ROBINSON
YOU GO ON NOW ON NOTHING BUT MISGUIDED FAITH
AS INTANGIBLE AND UNSUBSTANTIAL AS THE INCENSED DOBBIN
WAS REALLY NOTHING BUT A SELF-HAUNTING GHOST
RISEN FROM PHOTO-ASH
IN THE HALL OF PERMANENT-RO-RECORDS
AND NEVER THE WHOLE MAN THAT YOU, LEADING MICHAEL RIORDAN
FIRST SAW!
YET, IN ORDER TO BEAT THIS PARTICULAR DAMNATION GAME ITSELF
WOULD MEAN THE REAL DEVIL ITSELF
REMADE BY THE HUMAN WORLD/LIFE ITSELF
LYING BROKEN IN SOLE DEFEAT
BEFORE THE SO VERY LOWLY LIKES OF YOU???
BEST DREAM ON MIGHTY ROBINSON…
TILL YOUR UGLY END FATE OF AN UNNATURAL EARLY GRAVE
IS FINALLY CASHED IN!
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
134
He could only hope that every thought IT communicated to
him, represented nightmarishly paradoxical lies, and an attempt
at misdirection and to steer him wrong, that really reflected IT
had some alternative purpose IT was trying to trick him into
securing on IT’s behalf.
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
135
PART 3
(OF 3-PARTS)
‘Why didn’t you wake me?’ Robinson asked Lisa in the
cramped kitchen. He had woken to discover he had over slept by
five hours. It was two o’clock in the day. He’d missed out on
valuable work time. Lately, he was sleeping far too much. He had
no energy.
‘I thought you needed the rest. We’ve got to talk!’ Lisa
brushed her long brown hair away from her brown eyes. She stood
five foot seven. She had a wiry build.
He looked around the kitchen. He felt trapped like an
animal in a cage in the small space that always felt to be
closing in on him, really reflective of his state of mind.
‘Leave you alone?’ Lisa said. ‘That’s all you ever say!
This has been going on now for months! You lock yourself into
your study! You don’t come out for eight or nine or even twelve
hours! And when you do, you’re already stopping to write down
notes in your notebook! You’re as good as finished as Sheriff
down in the station. You can’t cut me out of your World/life!
You owe me! You can’t throw away what we have together!’
‘I told you, Roger,’ he began.
‘Roger! Roger! Roger!’ Lisa very nearly screamed the name
as she slammed down her iron. ‘Is a sick, twisted ugly, filthy,
depraved, burnt, and dead whore’s white trash, bum son! He did
what could only be expected from such an ungrateful, selfish and
pig-headed bastard, full of nothing but hatred! He probably
would have cut our throats if we’d let him stay with us, instead
of sending him to RO back in 1959! You did all that you could
possibly manage to do for him when he was a boy! You did more
for him, than anyone else in this town ever did for him, his
entire sorry excuse for a World/life! You’ve got nothing to be
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
136
ashamed of, or to feel guilty about! You have got no reason to
allow him to destroy you to! Now! You just have to put IT all
behind you! Leave Patrick Watkins take IT from here! You’re not
the State Police! You’re just one man! I wish you would talk to
somebody!’
‘Talk to someone?’ He sensed Lisa about to try to
manipulate him yet again into doing what she expected of him.
Just like her UE was manipulating her conscious thought patterns
so she wished to destroy others in order to succeed only in
destroying herself. She was a woman who said in the name of love
she was trying to do what was best for her family, really the
UE-drive to hurt him and her through the concept of trying to
control and dictate to him and her.
‘Look, I got onto your brother Richard. I asked for the
name of a good psychiatrist for you to go and talk to. I spent a
long time on the phone with Doctor Jorgen. She even took a keen
interest in reading the extensive reporting in the media
regarding the… bloodbath you were involved in August 9th… I made
an appointment for you to see her. She said you would be wise to
show up. I mean the way you shout and roar nonsense like some
madman… IT isn’t just me that you owe!’ Lisa said quietly,
cleverly.
Robinson noticed his wounded son. Little Richard stood in
the doorway. Little Richard had heard the arguing, something
that had seldom happened in the household prior Dorothy
Philpot’s murder.
‘Richard!’ Robinson felt embarrassed. He tried to smile.
‘Dad,’ little Richard said quietly. Little Richard kept his
eyes directed at the floor. He poured himself a glass of milk.
He returned to play with his toys in his bedroom. Father and son
were more like two strangers uncomfortable in each other’s
company.
‘You give more thought to Roger Madican James, than you do
to your own/ed and only son! Your son is unsure, if not
intimidated by you! He doesn’t understand who you have become,
and why the locals give you funny looks!’
‘Neither do I half the time.’ Unable to come up with a plan
to effectively deal with Roger, ensured he had to completely
lose himself in his work. He had to drive himself to consciousself-distraction, testing every last fiber of his physical and
mental and spiritual being, and trying to tap into every last
unconscious resource at his disposal, until he did come up with
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
137
a plan. The way to resolve all of this had to be within his
mind, given it was the mind of man that had recreated
Postmescic-IT in the first place! Equally, he might be selftesting himself now, but by Postmescic-mind-God the next time IT
showed up in his World/life then he truly would be self-tested
to the very limit. He had to be self-prepared, self-trained,
self-educated, self-styled as best as he could be, before this
inevitable World/life time arrived. Just as Roger had warned
through Dobbin… Roger hadn’t forgotten any of him and her! Even
if IT didn’t come in this World/life, you could be sure IT would
come in the next World/life when he mortally died of his alienbrought cancer? Anyway, anytime he truly fought as hard as he
could to do the rite thing, IT seemed the alien’s cancer became
dormant. Anytime he did the wrong thing, even thought the wrong
thing in private, the cancer became active again. Why would Lisa
be driven by her UE at a gut/instinctive level to try to stop
this journey of self-discovery that ultimately was aimed at
saving his very own/ed soul?
Yet maybe a top psychiatrist could offer worthwhile insight
and help? Was this Lisa’s true motive, a truly honest desire to
get him help because he couldn’t handle his work on his own? The
doctor had said she had read about the case in the media, even
before she’d ever known one day Lisa would ring her to ask her
to help one of the men who’d actually been involved in the
R.M.J-case-that so fascinated the doctor? Would the doctor then
go out of her way to help Robinson sort out the real meaning of
the real results?
‘Roger! Roger! Roger! That’s all your World/life has
become! What’s the big-interest, I’d like to know! That dirty
bum, savage… What else could you expect from a whore’s son? What
is Roger?’ Lisa asked. ‘That he can make you dismiss us all from
your own/ed World/life as if we mean nothing? I mean, you’d
think this was the case of the sins of the father being visited
upon the son or something… What did growing up with your father
Joseph do to your mind? Listening to your father’s bullshit
stories about fighting in the IRA against the British, his time
spent in jail, the fact that he was shot twice… The fact that
the Church told the Irish that if they joined the IRA they would
be excommunicated from the Church… and so implied then they’d go
to hell… but your father joined up anyway… The fact that he’d
rise upon a Sunday morning and put on his best suit, go out and
execute someone, and then go to Church…
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
138
‘Growing up with him, sensing his state of mind, both
conscious and unconscious… and reading about his exploits in old
newspaper articles he had cut out from the newspapers and pasted
in some scrap book… along with the stories concerning friends of
his… Killers, such as his brother he said killed twice as many
people as he did… did you feel that you had to resolve the
business of evil or something, work out the road to salvation on
his behalf, or something? Certainly you are no bad man who needs
to finds salvation? You did only what was the right thing to do?
So why even try?
‘Can’t you face the fact that evil was done for the sake of
evil? People were abused for the sake of abuse and nothing more?
Why do you have to go on self-pretending these people were great
war-heroes or artists or whatever to self-justify their barbaric
actions… Can’t you face mindless evil is done for the sake of
mindless evil? There is no other purpose than that, just
mindless death and destruction and suffering and the rest lies
and excuses in a meaningless universe? Is this why you are so
interested in the case of Roger Madican James? What exactly do
you think you are going to resolve, learn, accomplish? IT’s even
in your name for Christ’s sake that your father gave to you…
George I.R.A. Rob/in/son?’
He nodded his head. He was sick with guilt. Yet he knew
guilt was really the first stage of breaking away from a DCCmade-with-UE. Guilt was generated because UE wished to trick a
conscious mind into recreating the same morally bankrupt state
of mind the human knew when he or she had decided to do wrong in
the first place, and so stop the complete breaking away from the
DCC-made-with-UE.
‘IT’s not a meaningless universe Lisa… everything about
nothing… Everything is about something… Roger said that if
people had done the correct thing, at the very least we would
have landed on the moon two thousand years ago… By now we’d all
be working individually for the good of everyone else… so
everyone would get everything of true worth, instead of the
present RO-Culture status quo where everyone is out for the self
and so no one gets anything of any worth? We might even have
figured out how to live near indefinitely, if not forever… This
thing about the universe been meaningless and evil, is a lie
evil people tell the self, so people will go on ensuring the
failed World/life RO-Culture status quo is maintained so all,
always ends up in scourge and death and misery and self-
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
139
punishment… Can’t you see this yet? IT all goes back to the UEhate/revenge drive so strong in people because humanity is
living in a failed World/life and is self-destroying, selfpunishing because we are not self-creating the fair and just
World/life intended to be…’
‘Things had better change! Anyway, Richard and I are not
the only ones who you owe IT to!’
‘And myself?’
‘You really are that blind and self-obsessed, aren’t you
George?’ Lisa shook her head in bemused disgust. ‘You can’t even
see what has been happening in your own/ed family, all around
you, day in, day out! For God’s sake, even little Richard knows!
He used to believe babies are carried down from heaven to Earth,
by the white stalk from the Walt Disney movie!’
Stunned, he stared at Lisa.
‘I’m four months pregnant George! I conceived sometime very
early last August. Just before Dorothy Philpot’s murder, when
all,’ Lisa glanced at the doorway to be sure little Richard was
not still outside. ‘Relations between us stopped!’
‘I thought you were putting on weight because of the stress
I was causing you? Why didn’t you tell me? Am I the father?’
Lisa laughed bitterly. ‘Of course you are the father! It
just shows how contrary you have become to even think of asking
me that!’ Lisa grimaced. ‘I should be insulted.’
He knew that as a young woman, such a comment would have
pleased her, and caused her to giggle. Once she had loved the
naïve and innocent George Ira Robinson, left stupefied by the
harsh realities of real World/life. Knowing there was no Walt
Disney Stalk, George had blurted out the idea of another man
because he was so consciously divorced from the UE-governed lust
in him. There had been a time when Lisa had hated men who had
viewed her as a sexual object, beginning with her very own/ed
father. Now, he noted, she hated George’s childlike naivety.
‘I know you don’t want to bring another child into this
World/life.’
‘I always wanted a daughter, you know this?’ His heart
sank. He sat down at the kitchen table.
‘Now I am a man, I put away childish things,’ Lisa
misquoted the Bible.
‘What?’ he looked at Lisa as if she were crazy. ‘You should
read that full quote Lisa, 1 Corinthians 13, love.
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
140
‘When I was a child, my speech, feelings, and thinking,
were all those of a child; now that I am a man, I have no more
use for childish ways. What we see now, is like a dim image in a
mirror; then we shall see face to face. What I know now is only
partial; then it will be complete-as complete as God’s knowledge
of me. Meanwhile these three remain; faith, hope, and love; and
the greatest of these, is love.
‘Best remember how Cane brought the Old Testament evil God
an offering of harvest. Able brought a lamb and offered the best
meat. Then after the sacrifice Cane became enraged because he
had not done the rite thing. He killed Able. Then Cane was
forever cursed, so even if he tried to grow crops the soil would
not produce for him, and so Cane went off and built a city.’ An
image flashed of RO-Culture. He felt so close to the spiritual
at work behind the superficial and misleading and shallow
World/life details he felt on the verge of making a prophecy,
something to do with the building of a new city. Then
psychological blockage and negative energy intruded DCC-madewith-UE-style. He failed. ‘Inora mind God, people can twist
anything, and even call serving evil, maturity. Using UE to
understand, in order to not be destroyed by all works of
mortality, is one thing. Serving IT’s purpose of destruction is
quiet another. In the name of maturity, you’ve turned UE into
the main source of conscious inspiration Lisa… that’s what
defines your worldview as a so-called mature woman…’ He
remembered the message left on the black tape back in the A9interrogation room.
AUGUST
I WILL BREAK HER HEART, JUST LIKE YOU ONCE BROKE
MINE! AND SHE’LL BE LONG DEAD AND GONE FROM THIS IT’S PLAYTHING
EARTH BEFORE YOU!
ADOPTED SPIRITUAL DREAM FATHER… HEY?
He’d once been foolish and mentally confused enough to
imagine AUGUST might have related to the month of August in 1964
in which Roger had been first arrested.
‘What evil?’ Lisa sneered. ‘And what’s this about a girl? I
never said it was a girl?’ Lisa looked puzzled. She then
grimaced due to how contrary and confused Robinson had become.
‘You conceived in August of this year, rite?’
‘That’s rite!’ Lisa was angry now.
‘Is she healthy?’
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
141
‘I don’t know if it’s going to be a girl or not. But yes,
the baby is healthy, and due in April…’
‘Early May… Roger was born early May…’
Wide-eyed, the furious Lisa looked at Robinson as if he was
a buffoon. So overcome and warped by UE-evil after a World/life
of making the wrong and most selfish evil-purpose-serving
decisions in regard to what she had thought in private in her
own/ed
mind
in
reaction
to
standard
World/life
event/circumstances everyone went through, that’s all she could
conceive him as now. A Postmescic hell’s own/ed stereotype, a
demonic joker, spit-drooling-leering goon.
What did he know about Exudus/Cidean/Ethile Infatueata?
Only the Exudus had something to do with creating a perfected
mortal-body prototype… Could the Postmescic mind God somehow use
Exudus residue, to warp a fetus’ physical heart still developing
and forming in the womb, in some underhanded way? What about the
local rumors surrounding Roger’s alien birth? How had IT pulled
off that black Postmescic arts trick, if there was any truth to
the story Theresa James had started?
Lisa
stopped
looking
incredulous.
She
now
looked
embittered. ‘Wait, wait, wait. You knew all along, didn’t you?’
‘There’ll be something wrong with her heart… Probably
physical… I’m to outlive her!’ Tears began to stream down his
cheeks. He’d always prayed for a daughter.
‘What are you talking about?’ Lisa expressed both fear and
hate. She looked at her unwashed and haggard husband who had
three days growth of stubble, and was becoming the town joke-who
actually seemed to think it was in his best interest to be
humiliated by the locals.
‘You know when we sent Roger to RO back in 1959, he would
probably have been obsessed with the concept of any children we
might have…’
‘George!’ Lisa said very sternly. ‘You have to see Doctor
Jorgen! You owe IT to little Richard, and the new daughter you
believe I am carrying, and to me!’
Of course he had to make an appointment to see Jorgen. He
had wished to know how to advance his work in the damnation
game. Despite his conscious hopes and dreams of getting some
well-required help, deep down he already knew in advance what
would be the story with Jorgen. He did not have to be a mind
reader or a fortuneteller either.
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
7
(IN 7-PARTS)
PART 1
(OF 7-PARTS)
SUB-HUMAN, EVIL-PURPOSE-SERVING
SELF-KEPT SO IGNORANT CONSCIOUS SLAVE OF EVIL
MENTALLY ILL ANIMAL
RESPONDING TO THE UE-HATE/REVENGE DRIVE ALONE
OUT THEN TO TORTURE AND SCOURGE AND ATTACK ALL
AND TO REPEAT THE PATTERNS
THAT CAUSE MENTAL ILLNESS TO OCCUR IN THE FIRST PLACE
IN THE NAME OF GETTING TO FEEL AS IMPORTANT
AS AN INSTINCTIVE MEMORY OF A POSTMESCIC MIND GOD
OUT TO SELF-CREATE ITSELF IN PLACE OF CONSCIOUS HUMANITY
DISCOVERED OPERATING AS A PSYCHIATRIST
RESPONDING TO THE UE-HATE/REVENGE DRIVE
TO DESTROY HUMANITY
AND THUS CAUSING HER TO IMAGINE THE HUMAN PERSONALITY
AS THAT OF A HAPLESS SPIT DROOLING BUFFOON
SO BENEATH HER
THE SO-CALLED GREATEST EXPERT OF THE DAY
ON THE HUMAN CONDITION
DEMANDING TO BE PAID MONEY SO SHE CAN HURT AND ATTACK PEOPLE
WHILE SAYING SHE CAN HELP HIM AND HER
WHILE SECRETLY SELF-OBSESSED WITH HER SELF-IMPORTANCE
THOUGH EVERYTHING SHE IS DOING TO FEEL IMPORTANT
IS OF NO IMPORTANCE AT ALL…
142
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
143
QUITE THE REVERSE IN FACT…
FOR WHAT SHE IS DOING IS PURE EVIL ALONE…
HE! HE!! HA! HA!!
NOW…
THIS IS HOW TO GET THIS TRUE NON-CONFIRMIST BASTARD ROBINSON…
IF HE HAS SOME OVERPOWERING DCC-MADE-WITH-UE
THAT MAKES HIM MENTALLY ILL
THEN CONSPIRE TO MAKE HIS DCC-MADE-WITH-UE EVEN WORSE…
FORCE HIS UE TO REACT AND SPEW OUT NEGATIVE ENERGY
AND MENTAL VOMIT
BECAUSE UE CAN AND DOES ONLY WORK ONE WAY
AND AS SUCH FOLLOWS INALTERABLE PATTERNS
THAT MAY THEN BE EXPLOITED BY EVIL PEOPLE
AND THEN WHEN HE IS CONSCIOUSLY WEAKENED BY THE NEGATIVE ENERGY
SPEW OUT THE FAULTY AND NIGHTMARISHLY PARADOXICAL
UE-INSPIRED JUDGMETNAL LOGIC/MENTAL VOMIT
TO EXPLAIN HIS CONDITION
AND EXPLOIT THE PRIMAL-UE-NEEDS AND DRIVES IN HIM
TO GET THE CONSCIOUS-SELF-DECONSTRUCTING LOGIC
TO GO TO CONSTANT WORK WITHIN
HIS SO VERY TRAUMATIZED CONSCIOUS PSYCHE
TILL HE IS LEFT EVEN MORE MENTALLY CONFUSED
MISLEAD FROM THE TRUE CONSCIOUS-SELF
AND THUS EVEN MORE MENTALLY ILL
WHEN SO OVERPOWERED BY A DCC-MADE-WITH-UE…
Doctor
Jorgen
was
becoming
somewhat
well
known.
A
television station aired a documentary on mental illness. Jorgen
participated. One of Jorgen’s patients commented on all the
advances he had made when under Jorgen’s care. When asked why he
was coming forward, the patient, John Python, said, ‘Filled with
frustration, I spent about a year alone in my room, arguing and
talking to myself. I needed to go to a workshop and talk about
my problems. I don’t want anyone else to suffer. When I
mentioned to an acquaintance I was a diagnosed schizophrenic, I
never heard from him again. He looked at me with belittling
contempt as if I was nothing but some so very silly mentally ill
fool…’
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
144
If John Python had been arguing with himself, what had
really been causing his UE, following predetermined and
irreversible patterns-and as such only able to react to
World/life experiences in a predetermined manner, to generate
negative energy/mental vomit that was attacking John Python’s
own/ed independent sense of good conscious-self? In short, why
had John Python’s UE set up a conscious-self-deconstructing
relationship with his conscious mind? How had his UE managed to
get a body-of-UE-purpose-sanctioned-raised-thoughts/mental vomit
into his conscious thinking processes, all aimed to destroy
conscious him, think conscious him out of sanity and into mental
illness he could never escape/un-thought-chain? And why hadn’t
John Python, raised and educated in this country, had the rite
terms and definitions and logic to be capable of curing himself?
Or even of avoiding becoming mentally ill in the first place?
What lies, destructive delusions, faulty definitions and
misleading nightmarishly paradoxical logic aimed to sabotage his
independent sense of conscious self, was society stuffing John
Python’s conscious mind so full of, in the name of socially
acceptable logic? What type of logic/thoughts did society make
him conscious of? Why did John Python feel compelled by his
own/ed UE, to take the UE-inspired negative energy, accompanied
with
UE-inspired
conscious-self-deconstructing
dramatic
lies/mental vomit, seriously? Why was he driven to bow down
before authority figures that had never articulated knowledge
aloud to self-justify such a position as an authority
figure/expert on the human condition who knew how to make him
well? What World/life experiences was John Python having, that
an unconscious evil intellect could have external environmental
stimuli UE could react to, and build conscious life force spirit
deconstructing evil thinking into his conscious mind, because
John Python had to be conscious of his environment? Why wasn’t
John Python cured by the authority figure he was listening to,
given UE followed fixed and inalterable patterns, and as such
were patterns that could be exploited and forced to work the way
someone with knowledge about UE, wanted those patterns to work?
Why did he keep on returning to be abused and lied to and
hurt by the type of bullies out to sabotage him, but who said he
and she were his friends, who had caused him to begin with to
become mentally ill in the first place?
Yet here the so-called great experts/authority figures of
the day were in a sense blaming the mind of the so-called
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
145
patient John Python by slapping a label on it that said the
patient was mentally ill as if he was somehow to blame, or was
in some way different to other so-called mentally healthy human
beings labeled sane?
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
146
PART 2
(OF 7-PARTS)
Robinson felt he had summarized the entire World/life
situation. He told Jorgen, while sitting before her in her head
office, ‘In my mind, if I want a happy and good World/life, I
have to dismiss working on all primal-shallow end trueindependent-conscious-self-misleading
byproduct-of
UE,
misleading-UE-inspired
dramatic
trash/mental
vomit-mere
camouflage an unconscious evil intellect uses to damage a
conscious mind through the formation of a DCC-made-with-UE. I
must then return to using my IG and conscious soul mere learning
aids as my main source of conscious inspiration. I must only use
my UE as a fool-mortal-tool to understand the subject of
mortality, and the mortal universe, and the difference between
rite and wrong, in a way that brings benefits. I can actually,
at will, switch back and forth between using IG and UE, and the
soul-that like a broken snow-making machine spewing out snow,
allows for the self-production of pure and secure conscious
reasoning that can insulate me from UE’s negative influence. I
can at will then, use my unconscious intellects as mere
slaves/learning aids of my conscious mind as intended by Mother
Nature for humanity to do.
‘Not vice versa, where I go around trying to get emotional
and mental and physical rewards for self-satisfying the drives
of unconscious intellects… and I then as a conscious slave being
dictated to by the whims and instinctual motions, and the
predetermined reactions my unconscious intellects have to my
World/life experiences/information in the environment.
‘However, I first feel I should try to resolve this Roger
Madican James World/life situation by writing a book about him…
I feel I have significant frame of reference, and significantly
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
147
unusual World/life experiences I should not squander the
potential to glean worthwhile entirely new news information and
entirely new news spiritual knowledge out of, that can then
serve to benefit the rest of the human race. This being the true
meaning of an artist of course…
‘To pin point what is wrong with society, to explain why it
is wrong, and what is causing the errors in thinking etc., and
then to explain what is the correct response and solution to the
problems and how then to make the World/life a better place…
‘Not, I repeat, not to add to societies decay and selfcorruption and to make everything even worse…
‘Obviously this might seem to be an unusual idea to you,
given most so-called artists… actors, writers, singers etc.,
only
make
the
World/life
situation
worse
by
constantly
reinforcing the destructive and incorrect thinking of the day in
the masses, until all that is left is mindless evil.
‘However, having worked on the subject of the shallow-end
true-independent-conscious-self-misleading
byproduct
dramatic
trash/mental vomit, inspired by anti-conscious evil for so long,
I have become mentally fatigued. I am worn and stressed out. In
truth I can only wish that in some prior century someone else
did the work I am now trying to do… worked out the truth of all
spiritual laws… worked out how society should function in a fair
and just way, and then let society in on the information. Then I
would have been born into a fair and just World/life and my
World/life would not have been ruined and been a complete waste
of space and time… Yet I am all out now to change that… I have
had alien World/life experiences that mean if I do not use the
experiences I have, to work out the truth I should be now able
to work out due to those experiences, I will feel bad. I feel I
owe everyone else and have major responsibilities to the human
race I cannot turn my back upon…
‘I read an article about a businessman who burnt out from
too much work. This is how I feel. I am hoping medication might
help me to regain my original energy levels.’
The mentally ill, insane mad woman totally dismissed and
ignored him. Instead, in response to the UE-hate/revenge drive,
and the type of mental illness, paranoia, hate and rage and sick
and twisted ugly evil delusions at work within her own sick and
twisted and perverted mind, straight away she was coming back at
Robinson, screaming and roaring and ranting and raving and
shrieking and attacking him as if she was some mentally ill and
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
148
insane demon down in some madhouse at the furthest and darkest
and blackest regions of hell.
‘Do you think people such as your neighbors are all talking
about you, and what you get up to, behind your back?’ Jorgen
asked. Yet she knew full well his neighbors were.
Jorgen got angry anytime he defied her UE-inspired
hate/revenge driven view of him as a hapless fool, who in
reaction to so traumatic World/life event/circumstances as he
had gone through, could not learn anything new or beneficial,
and could only as such become mentally confused and mentally
ill, when he accurately explained the real reason people behaved
the way he or she did. Now, if he were honest, his answer should
be that people had been given the unconscious signal he was a
man who all were self-justified in celebrating the social
destruction of. The UE-drive to fit into society and belong, and
to feel one understood so dramatic reality, was so great, even
his own/ed wife Lisa was following suit. As such, this
World/life situation betrayed the true evil the majority had
been serving all along, even when he had been a so-called wellrespected Sheriff. Instead, he lied, just to see if Jorgen would
take the bait.
‘No, why would they?’
‘Yes, George,’ Jorgen smirked arrogantly, and then the
shrieking and madness and sickness continued. ‘Why would they?’
Jorgen’s eyes gleamed contemptuously, now that finally he had
given her an excuse to begin to vent her UE-inspired, UEhate/revenge-backed shallow-end true-independent-conscious-selfmisleading byproduct of UE-inspired judgmental abuse/mental
vomit. She knew no internal conflict, only elation and emotional
rewards for self-satisfying her evil hate/revenge-drives to
destroy another and to torture people. There could be no
independent and pure sense of conscious life force spirit left
awake in her, if there ever had been any to begin with?
The fact was that when Jorgen did not get the chance to
self-convince herself that he was so beneath her and was nothing
but a hapless conscious mentally ill fool incapable of learning
entirely new news knowledge from his traumatic past, when she
was not spewing out UE-inspired negative energy designed to
spread mental illness around, and to hurt others, she felt bad.
For she could not then get to feel important by reinforcing her
delusional rotten-RO-heart self-image, where her UE leant to her
the sensation she was like a mortal God. Yet when she got to
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
149
view Robinson as a hapless mentally ill fool incapable of having
any insight into his own/ed mentally ill condition, she became
elated?
How could this be? The woman became enraged and spiritually
sick and agitated, when she was not going evil and trying to
torture someone, and beat him or her down mentally even if only
in her own personal mind’s view of him or her, while summoning
up the pure UE-hate/revenge drive directed towards demeaning her
patients? Yet good conscious Robinson only became enraged and
spiritually sick and agitated when he faced evil and injustice
such as this mentally ill and so very perverted madwoman selfpersonified?
‘Yes, George, why would they?’ Jorgen finished by saying.
She then said no more. She just looked at him trying to look
knowledgeable. She only managed to look hateful, like some spitdrooling sub-human goon consciously cultivating some primal evil
mind raised evil-hate/revenge-backed judgment/delusion. He had
to wonder how a really sick person, prone to paranoia, the bodyof-UE-purpose-serving-raised-information/mental vomit developed
in reaction to negative World/life experiences governed by evil
purpose-serving people, would react to this? In reaction to
Jorgen summoning pure-UE-hate/revenge-drive-inspired shallow end
true-independent-conscious-self-misleading
byproduct
of
UEinspired judgmental hate, the UE-in her patient should react by
following an inalterable pattern. UE then should generate
negative energy. Thus generate conflict in the patient’s
conscious personality, who then as a independent conscious mind
might decide to consciously take seriously as a secure
explanation for reality, some of the UE-purpose-serving-raisedinformation/mental vomit, because he as a good person expected
the so called good doctor to have his best interests at heart?
Yet the doctor pretended to be good? Why was everyone
always out to pretend, when there was nothing at work here but
the UE-hate/revenge drive to harm, sabotage, torture, attack and
destroy humanity and upset the intended plan not for lies and
evil to take over and for all to deconstruct back into evil, but
for all to evolve into truthful and pure and wise beings?
He thought of John Python arguing with himself because
people like Jorgen caused his UE to react in an inalterable
fashion, and generate negative energy, that generated conflict
in his personality until he was self-tortured due to other
demented evil human animals like Jorgen out to self-satisfy the
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
150
UE-hate/revenge drive, who then got to turn around, and after
beating the patient down mentally, actually then got to say the
patient was mentally ill and the solution to this mental illness
was to summon the UE-hate/revenge drive to beat him down
mentally?
Robinson also knew that Jorgen’s brother lived in Silver
Springs. He was a greedy banker. Did Jorgen also feel like a
big-shot, when in response to hearing from her brother about all
the ill-talk about Robinson presently ongoing down in Silver
Springs, Jorgen had decided she to would do her very best to
ensure the social destruction and mental illness, the Silver
Springs Town people were all out to cause George Ira Robinson,
actually came to be in reality?
Is that IT? She was the important big shot authority figure
coming to the aid of the community who wished to destroy George
Ira Robinson? Or was there any sort of logic left to work in her
at all, other than the mere UE-hate/revenge drive?
He had already started to take the medication prescribed.
The medication had no effect on him. Drug companies did not know
why medication worked on some patients, and failed with others.
Medication was not psychiatry or psychology. Nor was brain
surgery. If there was something physically wrong with the brain,
then it either could be fixed by surgery, or it could not be.
Half the country was taking medication such as anti-depressants
of some sort? So what was the real truth?
Mother Nature was a half-wit, who had so badly selfdesigned the human brain, the most complex organ in the known
universe, that the majority were depressed due to a faulty
design? Or was it most likely the case half the country was
depressed because people were living in an unfair and unjust
society filled with evil-purpose-serving lies called definitions
that best defined reality for the majority, but which was a
human society never intended to be by the nation of the pure
Gods? As such, through the UE of a standard design in each and
every unconscious human mind, humanity was out to self-punish
and self-destroy itself collectively for daring to do the wrong
thing?
As well as her degree, Jorgen also tried to exploit the
reflected glory of medicine to imply she knew more than she did,
and as a means to further aid her to force DCC-made-with-UE to
form in her patients-who did not bow down before her wisdom and
reinforce her own/ed delusional rotten-RO-heart self-image as an
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
151
all-knowing big shot. She repeated the instinctive patterns on
her patients that caused mental illness to occur in the first
place? This woman’s rotten-RO-heart identity popped out of the
back stage joke house, probably thought she was most wise
accepting the human animal had an ID and a super ego and an ego,
and nothing more. This was all lies and garbage thinking of
course. There was just an unconscious evil intellect that was an
instinctive memory of an evil God out to recreate itself in
place of conscious humanity. UE as such leant to people the
sensation that he and she were important and powerful when he
and she achieved evil on behalf of the UE-purpose to recreate
the Postmescic mind God in place of conscious humanity. For UE
wished this to be so, for UE had been pacifically built and
designed to ensure this was so.
Yet there was also an IG and a soul. And no one was meant
to become the conscious slave of any unconscious intellect.
Unconscious intellects were nothing but instinctual learning
aids/spiritual guides conscious humanity was meant to use to
work out how to create a fair and just World/life for all, and
to learn how to evolve into increasingly purer and wiser
spiritual beings? Or else be removed as self-named spiritual
errors and self-destroyed? Given Robinson already knew all of
this thanks to the so-called tenth rate work of the so-called so
lowly bum half wit son of a dirty and depraved whore Roger
Madican James, he now waited patiently to hear what the socalled great expert of her day, the so wise and all knowing
powerful big shot psychiatrist meant to be able to cure her
patients, had to say after all her years of hard study?
‘Now George! I know of an out-patient clinic where people
can go, just to get used to dealing with ordinary social
situations all over again,’ said Jorgen.
Pass the buck why don’t you? Yet, hadn’t she just asked him
if he thought everyone was talking about him behind his back,
and thus against him, society then out to self-train him to
become mentally ill? She knew for a fact the Silver Springs
locals were all spreading nasty gossip about him? Yet he needed
to do this, to humiliate himself, so he might break all mortal
World/life connections and social concerns he had formed in the
past with the UE-human pawn herd, and about turn then and
finally see as a detached and independent conscious witness the
real evil truth running all.
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
152
‘I’m not going,’ he said. ‘Like I said, I hoped medication
might help me to regain my old energy levels… I have important
work to do… I have responsibilities to the rest of the human
race greater than are my concerns for my own/ed personal
welfare…’ He was losing weight. He had looked up the medication.
It had a side effect of repressing appetite. Maybe the side
effects might occur, but the medication certainly did not do for
him what it was meant to do for him. When he had told Jorgen the
medication was to blame for his weight loss, her eyes had
gleamed darkly. They had reflected her inner delight his once
fine physical stature was deteriorating. He was a good-looking
man. His brother Richard had told him Jorgen was married to an
ugly skinny little man, and Jorgen herself was no beauty queen.
‘Now George, last time you were in, you handed me in some
of your work. I have since read it, just to determine if at
least your sentences are competently constructed.’
This was another lie. The day Jorgen had asked for the
work, had been the day he had claimed he typed six thousand new
words a day. Robinson had not asked for her opinion, he did not
want her opinion since he’d realized what she really was. Yet
she’d been out to give her opinion all the same in order to
fulfill her own/ed private UE-inspired-hate/revenge agenda she
was consciously-self-mirroring with to destroy him in any and
every socially acceptable way open to her. Upon hearing he typed
so much new work every day, Jorgen’s eyes had glinted darkly.
She had looked self-satisfied. She had of course been looking to
gather the false evidence to abuse and attack him and torture
him. She had been just itching to do as much harm as she could
to him, and any excuse will do! Anyone who typed six thousand
words a day would surely make grammatical mistakes.
Robinson though had to wonder about this World/life
situation. After all, he was writing a book about a deranged
killer, a real person in real World/life, who Jorgen should
consider to-be mentally ill and who she had read so much about
in the newspapers? What then did she want to read Robinson’s
work for?
The truth was that he had learned to expect that anytime
someone eye’s glinted darkly, it meant he or she had consciously
connected with UE, DCC-made-with-UE-style. They were as such
about to come out with some evil-purpose-serving, pureconscious-life-force-spirit-self-deconstructing, and consciousmisleading nightmarishly paradoxical faulty logic, self-designed
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
153
by the evil-hate/revenge-drive to destroy conscious life, and
independent and pure conscious thinking… and to tie the pure
conscious thinking up in evil-purpose-serving, nightmarishly
paradoxical, conscious-self-destructive knots. Despite the fact
that consciousness could always refuse to respond to such a
primal-UE-hate/revenge-driven-compulsion to mindlessly destroy
the intended plan, he had never met an exception to this rule.
So too had been the so eager and dark and evil glint of
total self-satisfaction to Jorgen’s eyes when he’d mentioned his
book on the subject of a mentally ill murderer? Could IT really
be Jorgen was privately so insane with evil rage and the desire
to so belittle and humiliate and cheapen and torture and attack
him at any given World/life opportunity, she would take any
evidence, no matter how flimsy and unlikely and non-true, as her
means to abuse and humiliate and belittle and attack him and try
to make him mentally ill, or as mentally ill and as much a sub
human half wit as she privately liked to perceive him as, in
response to her purely evil hate/revenge-drive that drove her to
view humans like Robinson as the sub human spit drooling goon
half wit, this woman herself actually was?
‘You said, I believe, the pages were extracted from a two
thousand page book on the subject of Roger Madican James. You
are trying to work out how he went so far wrong in World/life in
general. File-R.I.P./unedit you call it. You say R.I.P. stands
for Roger In Purgatory, and UNEDIT stands for Understanding
Emotional Death In Time,’ Jorgen gave a sniff. ‘Now George,
don’t we both secretly know this is just your excuse to avoid
reality. I just don’t see the point in any of this. You’re just
setting yourself up for more disappointment.’
What was the point in her work, repeating the patterns that
lead to the creation of mental illness in her patients, in
exchange for money-she claimed to be charging to cure mental
illness? This was madness self-personified! This woman was
criminally insane! Like all of the mentally ill she was totally
self-obsessed with her own/ed hate and rage, her own/ed sense of
importance, her own/ed problems, her own/ed personal reasons to
take revenge on, and to attack and belittle and dismiss as fools
total innocents who had never tried to hurt her, unless she
imagined he or she had! The fact of the matter was this is what
true insanity was, taking revenge and spreading hate in order to
do evil for no sane or rational motive, and everyone else the
great big enemy/concept she couldn’t even define?
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
154
What was the point in any work society self-produced
anyway, given most work society self-produced, was designed by
evil only to spread evil thinking around the place and reinforce
evil-thinking and DCC-made-with-UE that already existed, and to
conspire to self-train, self-prepare, self-educate, self-fashion
people to mindlessly turn UE into the main source of conscious
inspiration and bypass all independent conscious thought in
exchange for unconscious evil thoughts? Though such people had
no knowledge of what UE really represented to conscious
humanity? As such people were as good as self-trained to destroy
all rational conscious thoughts and insights and real talent,
and as such to self-corrupt the imagination and the thinking
processes, so as soon as World/life event/circumstances changed
for the worst in an individual’s World/life, UE could set up a
conscious-self-deconstructing relationship with the conscious
mind. This led to such things as mental illness, crime, suicide,
murder, or some form of destruction, or self-destructive
behavior self-designed to make the DCC-made-with-UE-even worse,
or to some man-made disaster? She had read twenty pages of his
File-R.I.P./unedit-work. Prior diagnoses, she had asked him less
than twenty standard questions she asked all her patients to
determine if a patient was mentally ill.
One question had been…
DO YOU EVER THINK ABOUT HURTING YOURSELF OR HURTING OTHERS?
IF SO WE’LL HAVE TO DO SOMETHING…
This meant there must be countless people who had violent
thoughts inspired by the UE into the conscious mind. Yet only a
tiny minority acted upon such violent thoughts. Though he knew
he was probably kidding himself, Robinson could only hope this
meant that only a tiny minority had such morally bankrupt
conscious minds he and she could do evil and feel better about
the self after self-satisfying the UE-hate/revenge-drive to
destroy and punish and do harm in some way. Jorgen of course did
not have any such problems responding to her UE-inspired
hate/revenge-drive.
‘You know, I recently took a psychological test. It was
given to me by a psychologist to determine how confident I was.
He said I scored very high…’
‘If you told the truth,’ Jorgen muttered under her breath,
basically claiming Robinson had no confidence, and he was a lair
to boot. She exuded hatred as she regarded him as some half-wit,
mentally ill, mentally confused, spit drooling sub human goon,
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
155
and as such worked to tear away at any confidence he did have.
Yet, when he could bypass the conscious-self-deconstructing, UEraised-negative-energy raised into his conscious-personality,
and aimed to mislead his conscious thinking processes as far
away from the real truth as was possible so he would always fail
to come up with a solution to the Postmescic-Roger business… and
when he could sense his soul, his soul communicated he was one
of the most important divined good Players. Jorgen must be a
mind reader. Yet the psychologist had told Robinson…
YOU ARE TOO HONEST WITH YOUR FEELINGS! MOST PEOPLE SIMPLY
PRETEND TO BE HAPPY, BUT REALLY ARE NOT!
Why weren’t people happy? Why was everyone so miserable?
Yet Jorgen had asked him…
DO YOU THINK YOU CAN READ MINDS…
At some level Jorgen thought she could, if she was so
convinced of so much that was lies.
‘Well, I’ve read your work George. Frankly, I’m concerned.
The first half of your work is fine. It’s clear and precise. But
there are very confusing aspects to the second half. The two
halves are not the same at all. It sounds like the product of
mental illness.’
‘I’m writing about anti-conscious evil, utterly alien and
devastating to a conscious mind,’ he began. Lost to her UEinspired hate/revenge drive Jorgen was already ignoring him. So
he just muttered a throwaway comment he knew the real truth
behind, thanks to the Killian Schull essay homework, and The
Post/man’s
38-letters
constantly
mentioning
unconscious
intellects were the sum of spiritual laws. ‘Most Religious
experiences sound like schizophrenia. Religions were created not
due to external forces, but by the mind of man. It reflects the
unconscious mind intruding upon the conscious mind. Some
Religions state there is a pure God, some state a vengeful God?
Maybe there is both, and they are really unconscious intellects
with instinctive memories.’
‘I agree with you on that statement,’ Jorgen smiled
arrogantly, as if she understood only too well, but he was just
a mentally confused half-wit buffoon, repeating something he had
heard out in the street, and which he didn’t really understand.
‘But let me show you what I am talking about.’ Jorgen began to
read… ‘In the distance, in the center of the primal evil mind
that had self-possessed conscious-him, the initial Beings
thoughts shattered and exploded outwards. The shattered pieces
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
156
all-came back together again, as the new superior intellect,
self-testifying to what IT had evolved into, through IT’s own/ed
spiritual death and self-resurrection. And now, his conscious
thoughts became IT’s primal evil thoughts, and his emotions,
IT’s emotions?’ Jorgen looked perplexed. Then, shaking her head,
she sniffed and said, ‘I mean IT’s nonsense! This means nothing
at all to me!’
‘You know in previous chapters you did not read, I built a
frame of reference to explain that… for what I am writing is
designed like a training manual… In a way IT’s a new subject,
though as old as the creation of the universe… I went out and
interviewed a lot of ex-RO-orphans… Even in the previous
chapters, working through Roger’s everyday World/life in even
still operational RO-woe… and given what Roger defined as the
self-mirroring law of evil, working to trick a conscious life
force spirit into a shared state of damnation with UE… I
suggested conscious Roger was thinking about…’
‘I don’t give a damn what Roger was thinking,’ Jorgen
muttered angrily, as if all drama was not the mere shallow end
true-independent-conscious-self-misleading byproduct of the UE,
and was not reflective then of the actual truth of UE-sum of all
evil spiritual laws and the UE-hate/revenge drive to destroy the
intended plan. ‘I’m only interested in this segment. The writing
prior to this is clear and precise. I have no difficulty with
this. But this… this does not make any sense to me,’ Jorgen
frowned. ‘IT’s nonsense.’
‘IT’s a brief description of an unconscious evil intellect
coming to self-possess a conscious mind,’ he said. ‘Prior a more
complicated description.’
Hearing this, Jorgen eyes glinted darkly. She smiled
hatefully, once again imagining she had found the false evidence
she could use to deeply wound, attack and torture him. In return
for inflicting pain on another, for destroying and hurting and
attacking another, for self-resurrecting primal UE-inspired hate
and conscious-misleading thoughts into another’s conscious mind,
she would receive emotional rewards from her own/ed UE. She
could then strengthen her arrogant rotten-RO-heart self-image as
the all-knowing big shot all had to bow down before the wisdom
of. Yet Jorgen had never said or written or done anything to
self-justify she possessed any such wisdom? She’d never had a
single new idea. All she had was a good memory that allowed her
to learn to repeat facts someone else had invented perhaps even
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
157
before she had been born to hear of the ideas, and none of which
were her own ideas? In a previous century, she might have been a
witch doctor practicing what was merely said to be the best
wisdom of the day, doing such things as drilling holes in
peoples heads in order to let the evil spirits out? The only
thing that would be the same would be the UE-hate/revenge drive
to destroy, only with different self-justifications attached.
One had to wonder then what Jorgen would have done to feel
like an important big shot if born in previous centuries? Would
she have learned to repeat the so-called great wisdom and way of
doing things of the day? Would she have burned witches at the
stake? Would she have drilled holes through people’s skulls to
leave evil spirits out, or to ease pressure on the brain? Would
she have kept black people as slaves she had no guilt about
exploiting for her personal end gains? Would she have sent Jews
to be gassed to death? Would she have crucified Jesus Christ?
Certainly in her hatred she was viewing Robinson as much of a
spit drooling, mentally confused half-wit, as Nazi Germans had
viewed gypsies, or as white slave owners had viewed black
people, who they often raped for fun because there was no law
against it.
Yet, if he had been Jorgen, he would have said he had often
heard that mentally ill patients, the most complicated creatures
with the most complex brain-organ-thing in the known universe,
were asked a serious of standard questions. The answers allowed
a doctor to diagnose the patient as mentally ill. This surely
suggested an unconscious intellect of an inalterable, and
standard design in each and every unconscious human mind-had to
follow some sort of instinctive patterns and be the sum of
certain beliefs, that allowed it to self-resurrect various
harmful evil thoughts and delusions into a conscious mind-kept
in complete mystery of how the mere learning aid really worked
and why. As such it ensured so many unique conscious people,
with flexible conscious spirits, could end up suffering the
exact same type of symptoms and delusions-of a standard design
in all. He would also have added mental illness occurred,
because some people could not safely incorporate UE into the
personality as the main source of conscious inspiration, and act
and react about UE in a healthy and beneficial manner, due to
the unconscious primal UE-inspired rage other people ceaselessly
worked to self-resurrect into him or her, through the
reactionary thinking law. For this was not the intended
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
158
World/life. IT was an evil-purpose-serving World/life that as a
failure celebrated failures and the works of failures alone,
such as Jorgen. He might also have mentioned Roger Madican
James’ concept of the PP:FCIC-made-with-IG. He might also have
mentioned that mentally ill people, were the exact same type of
people as normal people, only in the case of mentally ill
people, his and her conscious identities were so weakened and
eroded due to he and she being constantly attacked by UE-raised
negative energy, he and she became susceptible enough to begin
to define his and her conscious thoughts and feelings and
beliefs by fixed shallow end true-independent-conscious-selfmisleading
byproduct
thoughts,
delusions
and
compulsions
inspired by unconscious intellects. As such everyone was insane,
only so-called normal people had some degree of independent
sense of healthy conscious self that was detached from the
unconscious mind’s influence. This meant even when people lied
and did evil like Jorgen was presently doing he and she had to
know the truth at some level? Jorgen did not say anything like
this.
Instead, Jorgen’s eyes glinted darkly. She smiled in total
self-satisfaction like the cruel animal out to torture everyone
she was. Most people would not have noticed the brief but very
slight change in facial expression coming and going in a split
second. Yet it was an expression she had formed so often in her
past, she had wrinkles on her face already beginning to outline
a mean face reflective of not some evil demon within, but of a
person solely defined by the UE-hate/revenge drive. ‘O, I see!
And tell me George, have you ever had any personal experiences
like this?’
O, here it finally was! Just as Robinson had originally
thought, this woman would use any excuse, no matter how unlikely
and unreal, as her so called self-justification to belittle and
humiliate and degrade and torture and attack him, while
consciously summoning up the pure UE-inspired hate/revenge-drive
so she might self-convince herself the fantasy was a reality
when she viewed him as some spit drooling, mentally confused
half-wit, sub human fool who knew nothing.
He immediately remembered how he’d reacted as a child when
he’d first met Dorothy Philpot. He now imitated this reaction.
‘Yah, sure,’ he said like a happy innocent, and then lied,
‘I dreamed of IT.’ Just like she’d read only twenty pages out of
the two thousand he had written, he’d just admitted to having
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
159
one dream out of thousands of dreams he’d had in a World/life
full of thousands of waking World/life reality experiences…
Little did she knew what he’d really experienced down in the
underground jailhouse August 1964… But then in her hate she
thought she knew IT all and didn’t want to know anything else
but her hate-drive.
‘You know George… I would read your work for you.’
He nodded. He did not react. Jorgen mistook this for pride.
‘You’re very ambitious, aren’t you?’ asked Jorgen.
Ambition was an evil UE-hate/revenge-drive. To self-satisfy
ambition, ensured the personality remained somewhat stable. To
thwart ambition, could ensure mental illness or frustration,
despair, self-defeat or rage, or all of the above. If a person
was beaten down he or she could only fight so long with ambition
to get back up. Keep beating a person down, all ambition was
destroyed and thwarted and turned to work back at the consciousself and there was just self-defeat. This was the end result
Jorgen was clearly hoping for, the total destruction and mental
defeat of the conscious life force spirit George Ira Robinson.
She liked to think Robinson was in a state of total mentally ill
confusion and self-defeat because society had as good as
symbolically beaten him down. She hoped now to symbolically kick
him down and keep him down. Was this it? The so called expert of
the day, could not understand how there could be such a thing as
a good man who therefore by his goodness, had to stand alone
against the masses out to turn him into a social outcast,
without he becoming mentally ill? Did Jorgen think, the socalled expert of the day that if one was a social outcast, one
could not learn new things, but could only deteriorate mentally?
That if one could not fit into society out to get him, one
became like an animal? For there was no such thing as
independent and insightful and talented conscious life force
spirit with self-awareness and many talents and insights, and
instead all human beings were just mindless animals run by gut
instinct and emotion, void of conscious intelligence, simply
staggering around through World/life, completely controlled by
some universal World/life event/circumstance churning UE-fatingmold primal evil intelligence like some human animal who was
always a product of any environment, acting and reacting to
instinct alone? Is this why she wanted to treat him like an
animal? Yet the complete reverse was true in Robinson’s case, he
used his social persecution and isolation to get increasingly
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
160
wiser, for by now he knew to fit into society could only cause
one to become increasingly more self-corrupt and ignorant amidst
a human herd of evil creatures? After all, even the experts of
the day would say writing was a good way for a person to try and
figure out how he’d ended up so screwed up in the first place,
and if not, then it could be therapeutic?
‘No,’ he said. He then told the truth. ‘I’m only doing what
I happen to know I could be good at, and which I feel I am
morally obligated to do… even though I do not want to do the
work that pains me so… and which hurts me to do. Yet, as I said
earlier, I feel duty bound to do the work in the name of
goodness. I have to try to work out how evil really works, so
other good people can be saved from suffering as I am presently
suffering-so totally unnecessarily. Given I have such a good
frame of reference of evil, I feel I should not squander the
great potential entirely new news knowledge I now know, I can
get
to,
due
to
my
extraordinary
and
usual
World/life
experiences… other people simply do not have to work with.
‘To squander one’s talents is a sin. What makes real-and
authentic talent-is all that is unique and of real truth and
worth and goodness in a conscious mind and soul, for all that is
unique and of real truth and worth and goodness in a conscious
mind and soul a pure God/force gives. UE-human pawns are the
dramatic liars out in response to the UE-hate/revenge drive to
mislead all and to make everything even the worse off… a mere
undefined concept to be attacked by the UE-human pawns… from the
intended World/life plan… Not only is it a sin then to squander
any true pure-God/soul/IG-inspired talent, but it is an even
greater sin for UE-human pawns to try and destroy that talent on
the individual… or to try and mislead that individual away from
that talent under UE-influence… thus, in a sense, misleading
that individual away from his or her true potential and
upsetting the intended plan for all World/life to follow. For as
a person is all a person has, a UE-human pawn is then trying to
mislead that individual away from his or her pure-God-given
fate. In truth then, I wish someone else born a long time ago
had done the work I am presently trying to do, so I would not
have to do it, and instead could read about IT, and simply get
on with my life…’
In reality, the Inora, the giver of free will, and all
divine conscious life force spirit, gave it. Also the Inora had
been originally built by the nation of the pure Gods, so
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
161
Robinson guessed that the Inora mind God was the closest thing
to a pure God this universe presently had rite about now.
According to Roger Madican James, this is what the soul and
IG were, instinctive memories of the pure conscious life force
spirit constructor? UE was the delusional identity, rotten-ROheart maker, trying to define conscious life force spirits by
evil traits and delusions and lies, so the conscious life force
spirit became the mere fool-mortal-tool of the Postmescic mind
God?
Jorgen looked confused for a moment. Obviously, she had not
heard the expected reply. Her eyes glinted darkly again. She
smiled like a demonic animal. She looked like a spit drooling
sub human goon that she was in fact. Then she continued with her
evil plan to take revenge against the concept that was George
Ira Robinson she couldn’t even define. She made the conscious
choice to symbolically puke out some mental vomit dreamed up by
her own/ed UE, and that as such was mental vomit that conformed
to all evil spiritual laws UE was the sum of, and as such was
self-designed by UE of a standard design in each and every
unconscious human mind, to allow the UE in Robinson the
opportunity to get conscious self-deconstructing evil thinking
into his conscious mind.
‘O George, I think you misunderstood. I offered to read
your work, so I could conform my diagnoses of you, and study
your illness that leads you to such mental confusion.’ Her eyes
glinted darkly. This must be what it had been like for a Jew to
be laughed at and mocked by Nazi Germany. Yet this was meant to
be her great punch line. Despite the furious unconscious UEraised hatred and rage she had to be consciously cultivating,
and her ability to perfectly self-mirror her conscious thinking
processes with her UE-hell’s view of reality in which he was
self-portrayed as a spit drooling sub human, and this view aimed
towards the destruction of his chosen self-image… and she trying
to exploit the fact that Robinson’s UE should now react in a
predetermined manner to her evil abuse… and so raise negative
energy into him aimed to destroy his sense of individual
conscious self and to torture conscious-him, and to smash down
his confidence and personality into mental illness, while Jorgen
invented evil-purpose-serving-lies to explain the internal
conflict… she only knew elation and emotional rewards. She was
very calm and self-satisfied and even gleeful as she tried to
reinforce her own/ed rotten-RO-heart self-image in her own/ed
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
162
mind alone. She wished to feel powerful and cunning. She knew no
conflict, no guilt, and no desire to do all she could to simply
fight to change for the better PP:FCIC-made-with-IG-style. She
just knew utter self-satisfaction and glee DCC-made-with-UEstyle. As such, her conscious mind had to be morally bankrupted
beyond hope of redemption. All pure and good rational conscious
thinking had to be dead in her, self-killed off, de/evolved out
of existence. All that was left was an evil cunning selfdesigned to work out how she could best now hurt and attack and
torture Robinson in any way she could get away with. Remember,
Robinson was writing about Roger Madican James and what only
appeared to be Roger’s mental illness. Robinson was not writing
about his self. Yet Jorgen was so out to cause as much trouble
as she could? She didn’t care what means she had to use, any
means, no matter how unlikely, was to become the excuse?
She was crude, pathetic, clumsy, and worst of all, most
obvious. She was relying on the most primal and near-animal form
of UE-inspired hate/revenge-driven thinking and tactics. Most
shocking of all was that it was highly unlikely Jorgen had known
Dorothy Philpot, or Pete Davie? Or in her youth had attended the
same college or schools as Dorothy Philpot and Pete Davie had?
Yet she was talking and acting just like him and her, as if he
and she had all grown up in the same household? In fact there
was no difference whatsoever between Jorgen, Dorothy Philpot or
Pete Davie. Each one was as good as the exact same demented evil
creature, given each one was run by the UE-hate/revenge drive of
a standard design in each and every unconscious human mind. Not
one single time, had any one of the three, ever betrayed a
single
moment
of
real
characterization
or
insight
or
intelligence, or having a gift or talent. The only difference
between the three was Dorothy Philpot had used the concept of
education as her excuse to act on the UE-hate/revenge drive.
While Pete Davie had used the excuse of literature, writing and
drama, while Jorgen simply used as her excuse the concept of
psychiatry. The rest simply came down to the fact of whatever
World/life
event/circumstances
these
mindless
goons
and
mockeries of human beings were put into.
How could this be, in a country of this size, unless all
were run by UE-instinctive patterns of a standard design and at
work in each and every unconscious human mind? IT then really
didn’t matter what garbage people chose to learn off and
remember? The basic UE-pattern designed to destroy all, was the
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
163
exact same, in everyone, anyway? No amount of informationlearned off, could change this set-destructive-pattern?
So behind all the ranting and raving Roger Madican James’
work was proven true yet again. Here was another so-called
educated woman. She’d gone to college and had studied for years
to become a doctor of psychiatry. Robinson had paid her good
money to help him get well. And what was the response of this
highly educated woman gone through the RO-educational system,
who was meant to be a healer of the mind/spirit, a teacher of
truth and good things to make the ill better?
To go by her gut instinct, to do and say that which taught
Robinson’s UE-that was a mere learning aid on the subject of
Postmescic mortality, how to destroy conscious Robinson and to
make him mentally ill? And this black Postmescic arts magic
trick pulled off, because conscious-Robinson was kept in
conscious mystery of the true shape and form of UE-due to Pete
Davie having torn up some of the Schull essay homework? That was
to say Jorgen said and did that, that gave the UE in Robinson
the opportunity/the evil food/the evil nourishment to selfresurrect
out
of
UE,
conscious
life
force
spirit-selfdeconstructing, nightmarishly paradoxical evil-purpose-serving
mental vomit-so he’d become even more consciously weak and as
such prone to confused thinking of a mentally ill half-wit with
no insight into his own condition, because he was kept in
conscious mystery of what UE looked like and how UE really
worked and why. Then, if anything, only able to lock himself in
a room and shout and roar and talk to himself about the great
injustice of what he couldn’t even define the real meaning
behind?
As if she was not criminally insane but a rational woman,
Jorgen started to read out another segment in which Roger’s
conscious thoughts were all confused. As confused as Jorgen was
presently trying to ensure Robinson’s conscious thoughts ended
up as, after the so-called great healer/teacher exploited the
fact that UE was meant to be a mere learning aid on the subject
of Postmescic mortality, to teach Robinson’s UE the way to
conscious-self-deconstruct conscious-Robinson?
‘I mean this means nothing… IT’s nonsense,’ she finished by
saying. She gave another sniff.
He could have told her that Roger’s conscious thoughts were
so confused, because his conscious life force spirit had just
been completely self-possessed, and dominated by a force of
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
164
anti-consciousness, utterly alien and traumatic to a conscious
mind. IT had tightly focused his conscious mind. IT had directed
the course of his conscious thoughts to certain universal
messages-representing brand new information and experiences IT
wished to deliver to him, prior to IT abruptly releasing his
conscious mind from IT’s self-possessive anti-conscious evilgrip. As such, Roger’s independent conscious thoughts had
started to spiral around in confusing and unfocused directions,
as he failed to come up with any previous information he had
been given by human society, that could allow him to come to
some form of understanding of, or terms with his new and alien
experiences-totally foreign to him. As such his conscious mind
had been left both totally unstable, and unable to simply
understand/process his new experiences, and so incorporate it
into his old belief system. But why bother to explain himself?
Yet Jorgen, the so-called expert of all, didn’t even
recognize this? She had no understanding whatsoever of what was
really going on? No wonder The Post/man had written to Robinson,
and had asked him to always wonder why is it, that conscious
people observing other conscious people, think he or she are
experts on the subject of anti-conscious, unconscious evil, that
is utterly alien to the conscious mind? Aren’t he or she just
selfish cowards, wishing to be told what to think, so he or she
can earn a degree, so he or she can then try to exploit the
reflected glory of an institution that helped him or her to
exploit the law that people felt a primal UE-drive to bow down
before an authority figure-who yet had never articulated any
knowledge of any worth to self-justify that position? And to
accept as great facts what was considered the best wisdom of the
day, because UE wanted UE to remain the main source of conscious
inspiration in all, in order to help such people to more
effectively succeed in doing evil? If so, how dangerous were
such people, given, no frame of reference whatsoever, was no
frame of reference whatsoever?
Independent conscious mind Robinson refused to react to
Jorgen’s abuse, so she could feel emotional rewards for wounding
another by self-resurrecting out of his UE-thought engine/mere
learning aid on the subject of Postmescic mortality, consciousself-deconstructing, primal-UE-inspired-hate into that patient’s
conscious mind. Within the process she could then self-satisfy
her arrogant rotten-RO-heart self-image-based on the desire to
feel she was an know-it-all big shot all should bow down before
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
165
and as good as worship. Unable to get this from Robinson, Jorgen
only knew internal conflict. She actually looked spiritually
sick. She reverted to type. Her evil then became even more
transparent.
To consciously cultivate evil thoughts, a conscious mind
had to connect/self-mirror with UE through a DCC-made-with-UE.
To remember the type of evil logic/mental vomit a conscious mind
had cultivated out of UE in the past, based on the desire to
hurt and torture and destroy and attack others, a conscious mind
had to reconnect with anti-conscious UE, because no conscious
life was meant to be evil.
Now conscious-Jorgen connected with her own/ed UE. She
reformed an ancient DCC-made-with-UE. She summoned pure primal
hate and spite. As her reward for doing evil, and continuing
with the unconscious UE conspiracy to destroy all conscious
World/life and to destroy the intended plan, UE filled her with
destructive emotions. UE lent to her the sensation she was as
powerful as a mortal Postmescic-mind-God UE was an instinctive
memory of, because of course by acting and thinking the way
Jorgen was, she was fulfilling the UE/Postmescic-mind-Godremaking secret agenda, consciousness-self-mirroring-with the
primal body-of-UE-mind style.
Just as the paragraph Robinson had written described, and
which Jorgen had just read out and had then so arrogantly
dismissed as nonsense…
UE-inspired emotions became Jorgen’s emotions. UE-directed
conscious thoughts, became Jorgen’s conscious thoughts. The
self-mirroring law of UE was in full-fledged operation here.
But by this late day she was so evil, and her rotten-ROheart was so fully formed in her due to she thinking the
incorrect and most selfish, evil-purpose serving thing in
reaction to standard World/life event/circumstances all people
went through, she did not know even mild mental confusion. Nor
did she know self-doubt when consciousness clashed with negative
UE-raised energy. There simply was no independent conscious life
force spirit left awake in her. There was just pure evil flowing
through a most major DCC-made-with-UE-she had made the conscious
choice to constantly strengthen over the previous decades. What
then did she like to imagine she thought as an independent mind
to self-justify such behavior?
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
166
I AM GOING TO GET THIS BASTARD IN THE NAME OF REVENGE AND
CAUSE HIM AS MUCH MENTAL HARM AS I CAN GET AWAY WITH, JUST OUT
OF SPITE?
Why would she want revenge against Robinson, one of
countless patients to her, and a patient she’d talked to but a
few times? Inora mind God, he’d paid her good money to help him
and she choose to do the complete opposite and do her best to
damage him? She tried to make him even worse off? She was out to
abuse and belittle and attack the very concept of pure conscious
life force spirit? Why? Did she treat all of her patients this
way, or just Robinson? She’d spent years studying and swearing
she wanted to help ill people and try to make the World/life a
better place? So she could do what exactly, go around abusing
and torturing and attacking and misleading and lying to people
so she could be leant the sensation by UE she was some powerful
big shot? Did she even have any conscious logic in her head to
self-justify what she was doing, or was it just pure hate and
mental illness and insanity and paranoia and spite and sickness
and perversion she was full of, the criminally insane evil human
animal putting the mere concept of revenge against some enemy
she couldn’t even define, before the value of actual authentic
human World/life with countless billions of years of evolution
before IT? Hell, some constant pleasure-seeking people paid a
fortune just to have some handbag made by child slave labor in
some Third World sweat shop, and used that handbag as some sort
of so-called self-proof what powerful, rich big shots she was
before other human beings the mere truest nothing nobody, no
ones? Is this the type of thing Jorgen used the money she
cheated people like Robinson out of, to buy?
She wasn’t then just a spit drooling sub human goon. She
was also criminally insane. Why else would she get into a
profession said to help sick people get better, and then try and
turn around and make people the worse off, her excuse to indulge
the UE-hate/revenge drive alone, despite been paid money to do
the complete reverse of what she was presently trying to do? And
having spent years working hard to remember a bunch of facts
others had invented, just so she could do what exactly? Be even
more effect in abusing and hurting and attacking people? So she
could feel like a big shot by doing evil? Where was the
conscious logic in all of this? Was she so insane she actually
thought she had good reason for all that she did to harm what in
her mind was a mere concept she could not even define, really an
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
167
attempt to add to the complete self-destruction of the human
race, to drag all back down into mindless evil and upset the
intended plan?
Her hate-inspired abuse, insanity spells, her ranting and
raving and screaming and shrieking was delivered calmly and
logically and objectively. Though her abuse was directed towards
a few pages that described the instinctive thought processes,
and primal-UE-patterns that defined what by this day was her
entire existence? To know no conflict in her desire to spread
the anti-conscious evil rot around, she could have no pure
conscious life force spirit left awake in her? All was long
since gone to sleep with the forces of spiritual dreaming death?
‘I mean, who would be interested in this? Have you ever
even bothered to ask anyone if they would be interested in this
pointless exercise you are so obviously indulging in to avoid
the real issues in your life? I can see no point to such a long
work! We have made absolutely no progress you know.’
Yet Jorgen herself had claimed to Lisa she had been so
interested in the case of Roger Madican James she’d followed all
the media coverage? Anyway, what real issues were there in his
World/life? What other issue was there, but the UE-issue? Even
if there were no Roger Madican James, the UE would still be the
real issue, and Jorgen then out to stop anyone from telling the
masses the truth behind UE? And instead, Jorgen trying to
exploit the UE-physical/spiritual-death/self-destruct drive in
Robinson, so he would destroy his conscious life force spirit,
just like UE wanted him to? Was this the truth? Give the masses
what he or she wanted? What did the masses want, not to selfheal, not to self-educate, but to what exactly? Rant and rave
and scream and shriek WE DON’T WANT TO KNOW anything but evilinspired work that self-magnified DCC-made-with-UE and helped
humans to self-destruct and self-corrupt with evil the conscious
mind, in reaction to a self-punish UE-drive that acted up in
humanity because this was not a fair and just human World/life
the nation of the pure Gods/IG/soul/the forces that were
Collective Mother Nature intended humanity to self-create?
Anyway, the masses did not know what he and she wanted. IT
was society that self-trained, self-prepared, self-educated,
self-fashioned the masses from birth, to think he and she
actually wanted what was labeled the market requirements, that
really was the requirement to give the masses what ultimately
caused him and her to self-destruct, self-corrupt, self-destroy?
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
168
Didn’t people want to get well, to self-heal? Wasn’t it the case
people only thought he and she wanted to be fed evil to selfmagnify evil, because society had self-trained, self-prepared,
self-educated, self-fashioned people from birth to think this
way, until people thought he and she wanted what he and she
actually didn’t want, because IT was destroying him and her?
He thought of the news story he’d read. Some woman who’d
been reduced to a beggar on the street had to sleep outside in
the winter. She got frostbite in her leg. The leg had
subsequently been amputated. Yet this fool had even then been
out to pretend, even when in her hospital bed with no leg,
everything was grand and she was some good-natured hero who
would do only her best with her lot?
What was everyone out to pretend evil was good for?
How did Jorgen know what the masses wanted anyway? Did she
actually think due to her UE constantly reenacting the essential
ethos and spirit of all of her negative World/life memories in
the name of brining all mortal worldly knowledge of the know
mortal World/life to bear upon her conscious mind, she
understood what the human race wanted? The complete human race
represented by billions upon billions of people? She was totally
insane! Really, her perception of the rest of the human race,
went back to her UE-identity communicating negative information
that defined her as an evil being, she merely presumed also
defined the rest of the human race? Did she then think she knew
what billions of human beings wanted and would accept and not
accept?
Yet the fact was, young people were always open to new
ideas. Who said such young people would not be fascinated by the
new spiritual knowledge Robinson was privy to? Who said older
people, who only sneered in contempt at the drivel society said
was entertaining work, would not also be looking for the new and
unique? Who said other than the rich people at the top who
actually imagined due to criminal insanity and the money he and
she earned, he and she benefited from the evil purpose serving
RO-Culture status quo, there was not plenty of normal people
sick of the RO-Culture status quo he and she knew at some level
was making him and her sick and keeping him and her down like
slaves, and just waiting for the answers Robinson could one day
give him and her so he or she could self-heal? How did Jorgen
know so much? Or did she even think she knew this much? Was
there simply the UE-inspired hate/revenge drive to destroy
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
169
another human being at work here, and any excuse to do? And to
more effectively abuse another, Jorgen went around pretending
she was good or trying to help others?
What were all of these evil human animals pretending for?
Did he or she actually imagine he and she were something other
than socially acceptable evil personified? Yet Robinson was
trying to use his work to work out how to resolve the
Postmescic-Roger business, and through this process work out the
spiritual laws that should allow for the creation of a fair and
just human World/life? Yet the thinking in Jorgen was who would
be interested? Simply continue to maintain the failed and unjust
human World/life until there was yet more war, crime, mental
illness, man-made famine etc.? If humans continued to pollute
the planet, the planet would destroy humanity? Was the woman
insane? Why would she even think to think this way? Was ROCulture teachings really so effective in completely warping the
thinking processes of the minds of all who encountered IT, that
even when told the truth, the human could not, would not bring
his or her self to respond in the correct way? Could the selffashioned DCC-made-with-UE formed in her, really be so selfreinforced, even when told the so simple truth behind the DCCmade-with-UE, she even still would not break the DCC-made-withUE, but would work to self-magnify DCC-made-with-UE in all?
The reactionary thinking law should now begin to kick in,
in Robinson. In reaction to the evil Jorgen was trying to do
here, his UE should react, and generate negative energy. He
should automatically associate with his work DCC-made-with-UEstyle. His work should begin to be seen as a source of pain and
humiliation due to the DCC-made-with-UE-association. He should
begin to build up hostility towards his work, and so begin to
hate his work. This relationship would reflect his own/ed UEinspired thought patterns, going against what was a fair
reflection of who he really was, as a unique and pure conscious
life force spirit.
In short then, his whole true sense of conscious self, the
unique conscious talents and original ideas he had been born
with, should come under direct attack from his own/ed UE? Out to
simply destroy him and all rational conscious thought and
conscious perspective and insight through a most major DCC-madewith-UE Jorgen had tricked him into forming here today? Pure UEinspired hate should come to be directed against his independent
conscious mind. IT should then block all new thoughts and
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
170
insight and perspective, while UE simply used the shallow
memories of Jorgen ranting her abuse, giving out nothing but
insults and lies all aimed to sabotage and never a single honest
compliment, so UE could fulfill the purpose of stopping Robinson
from resolving the true mystery of UE?
Yet, wasn’t this the exact same method psychiatrists used,
when trying to do such things as turn a homosexual into a
heterosexual? They showed the homosexual, male photographic
material? Then they induced such things as electric shocks, or
gave the homosexual medication that made him physically sick? So
the patient would end up associating pain and sickness with
homosexual sex, or sexual imagery he was by his true nature
interested in? They tried to self-train, self-prepare, selfeducate, self-fashion the homosexual to hate homosexuality, by
associating DCC-made-with-UE-with it-that communicated, and let
negative UE-inspired information into the conscious mind,
whenever the topic was raised? Yet, didn’t companies who wished
to sell products to the public, do the complete reverse? They
tried to get the public to associate positive imagery and
feelings and concepts with their products, PP:FCIC-made-with-IGstyle? Even cigarette companies did so, and yet the product
killed people? So to was the story of RO-Culture in the movie,
music and publishing industry, using things like so-called grand
music and imagery and charismatic good-looking people and wellwritten sentences and so-called exciting plots, to self-train,
self-prepare, self-educate, self-fashion people to think he and
she actually liked ideas, and so-called positive emotions and
good times associated with murder and death and lust and
destruction and pretending evil was good and entertaining and
fascinating/the best fashion/rage of the day? As such the public
was as good as tricked into thinking about and fantasizing about
evil-conscious-self-deconstructing-muck-that then spilled over
into how he and she lived and thought in real World/life?
Now, Jorgen, who would have been educated in such matters,
was out to say no one would be interested in Robinson’s work she
hadn’t read but a few pages of? What would the public be
interested in then, yet more evil abuse of the type Jorgen was
trying to do here today in reaction to the hate/revenge drive to
destroy the intended plan from coming to be? Did she actually
think the majority were evil people who as such would only
support other evil people, and the majority wished to destroy
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
171
people like Robinson, who was a true odd ball out of step with
everyone else because he was actually good?
Simply put, anytime Robinson appeared to be a wise or
insightful or a good man, Jorgen became full of hate? The actual
truth was of course that the only people who appeared good and
wise and insightful who made it in this World/life, did so only
because someone else, someone ugly and evil and twisted was
writing down the mental vomit the person who only appeared to be
a true winner, then tried to sell to the public as socially
acceptable? Such as actors and politicians and singers and such?
But the real winners, no way, no one allowed a real winner get
anywhere?
Was that IT, just like the Post/man had described in one of
his letters? Evil people tried to force the UE in the victim to
self-resurrect primal evil unconscious mind thought patterns
into the conscious mind? The conscious mind was then conscious
of such evil thinking. The plan of the evil people was to then
hope the conscious mind of the victim would be so ignorant and
dumb, the conscious mind would then define the conscious
thinking processes by such evil thinking/fantasies, and take
physical action out in waking, everyday real World/life in
response to the evil thinking? Thus making the victim of the
evil people, into yet another evil-purpose-serving UE-human
pawn?
The self-mirroring/reactionary thinking law of evil going
around and around as if for time without end, the abuser trying
to recreate his or her evil state of mind in the victim?
GUT/VISCERAL REACTION! EMOTIONAL REPONSE!
DESTROY ALL INDEPENDENT AND RATIONAL CONSCIOUS INSIGHT
INTELLIGENCE AND PERSPECTIVE!
IF PEOPLE ARE FILLED WITH THE UE-PHYSICAL/SPIRITUAL-DEATH/
SELF-DESTRUCT DRIVE
TO DESTROY AND PUNISH THE SELF AND OTHERS
THEN SPEED UP THE PROCESS
GIVE HIM AND HER WHAT HE AND SHE REALLY WANT…
HE AND SHE OUT TO DESTROY THE SELF AND EVERYONE ELSE
BECAUSE THIS IS NOT THE INTENDED WORLD/LIFE…
DON’T CHANGE THE WORLD/LIFE FOR THE BETTER THROUGH EDUCATION…
CONSPIRE INSTEAD TO ADD TO IT ALL
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
172
AND MAKE EVERYTHING SO MUCH WORSE INSTEAD…
HA! HA!! HE! HE!!
YET EVERY UE-HUMAN PAWN OF A UE OF A STANDARD DESIGN
IN EACH AND EVERY UNCONSCIOUS HUMAN MIND
ATTACHED TO A UNIQUE CONSCIOUS MIND
THINKS HE OR SHE HAS GOOD SELF-JUSTIFICATIONS
FOR EACH INDIVIDUAL BEEN A UE-HUMAN PAWN!
Jorgen was out to get Robinson to associate pain, mental
illness,
mental
confusion,
confusing
thoughts,
spiritual
sickness, stress, DCC-made-with-UE-style, with his own/ed workactually aimed to do the complete reverse? To work out how to
resolve all DCC-made-with-UE and mental illness and pain, and
end up forming PP:FCIC-made-with-IG? Problem for Jorgen was that
Robinson had read Roger’s Killian Schull essay homework. As such
he knew all about the reactionary thinking/self-mirroring law.
Problem for Jorgen was that for Robinson, this wasn’t about his
book, but about getting to the truth. As such he was ready to
see the truth for what IT really was. It was in fact Robinson
himself who was out to make himself mentally ill, and then to
make himself well again, so throughout the process he might hope
to work out how to save conscious-Roger from IT-all? Within the
too-same process he hoped to work out the truth that could save
the entire conscious human race from IT, and so allow the human
race to work out how to create a fair and just World/life as was
humanly possible to create, and of the type then that the nation
of the pure Gods expected humanity to live in and self-create
for the collective self? No more mindless pain and misery and
mass self-destruction and self-war then?
He didn’t like to think of the reverse… If he failed to
save conscious-Roger from IT-all, this meant conscious humanity
would be self-judged collectively and fairly as a failed race
deserving only to be self-punished and self-destroyed…
THIS MOST FINELY SELF-FASHIONED WHORE OF POSTMESCIC MORTALITY
HAS DONE SO VERY WELL FOR HERSELF
SETTING HERSELF UP HERE WHERE THE SELFISH COWARD CAN REPEAT
THE DESTRUCTIVE-UE-GOVERNED PATTERNS
THAT LEAD TO THE VERY MENTAL ILLNESS
SHE IS PAID OUTRAGEOUS MONEY TO CURE…
AND SOCIETY PROCLAIMING HER TO POSSESS THE GREATEST WISDOM
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
173
OF THE DAY…
AND AN INSTITUTION TO BACK HER ABUSE UP
IN ANY COURT OF SO-CALLED MAN MADE LAW…
GOOD INJUSTICE FOR A GOOD PARADOX SNARE
THINK NOT MIGHTY ROBINSON?
SHE HAS BEEN IN BUSINESS TWENTY YEARS
IF SHE WAS NOT STRUCK OFF AND HER LICENCE REVOKED
HER VERY FIRST YEAR
ALL SUCH SO-CALLED EXPERTS OF THE DAY
DO THE TOO-SAME EVIL AS SHE DOES HERE!
LOOK AT EVIL HUMAN HISTORY AND THE WAY PEOPLE CARRY ON
AND EVERY RO-CULTURE HUMAN AGE A COMPLETE FAILURE…
EXACTLY WHERE IS THE GREAT KNOWLEDGE TO SELF-JUSTIFY ANYONE
PROCLAIMING THE SELF TO BE EXPERTS ON THE HUMAN CONDITION?
WHY IS SOCIETY SUCH A FAILURE THEN
IF HUMANITY KNOWS ALL THAT IS TRUE AND CORRECT
RITE AND WRONG… AND WORTH KNOWING…
IF SHE MAKES YOU MENTALLY ILL
AND GETS YOU TO ASSOCIATE MENTAL ILLNESS WITH YOUR WORK
SHE THINKS YOU WILL NEVER BE ABLE TO PRODUCE GOOD WORK…
NEVER GET WELL…
AFTER ALL SHE DOESN’T KNOW HOW TO CURE ANYONE
ONLY MAKE HIM AND HER THE WORSE OFF
OR EXPLAIN THE REAL REASONS FOR PEOPLES MENTAL ILLNESS…
SO HOW THEN CAN YOU CURE YOURSELF
AND THROUGH THE PROCESS EXPLAIN IT ALL
WHEN ALL THE SO-CALLED EXPERTS OF THE DAY
HAVE FAILED TO DO ANY SUCH THING HIS AND HER SELF?
ULTIMATELY ALL EVIL PEOPLE COUNT ON ONE FACT ALONE
THAT NO ONE CAN UNDERSTAND THE ANTI-CONSCIOUS UE-SCOURCE CAUSE
AT THE SOURCE
WITHOUT GOING INSANE OR BEING FILLED WITH MINDLESS
TRUE-CONSCIOUS-SELF-MISDIRECTING RAGE!
AS SUCH, SHE IS SO SURE, THIS ONE
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
174
THE MOST WORTHLESS WHORE OF POSTMESCIC MORTALITY
NO ONE CAN MAKE SECURE CONSCIOUS-LOGIC
OUT OF TRYING TO RESPOND TO ANTI-CONSCIOUS EVIL INSPIRED ABUSE
SUCH AS SHE SPEWS OUT HERE
DCC-MADE-WITH-UE-STYLE!
Despite Jorgen having just disgraced herself in any pure
Inora-mind-God’s mind, by all she had just said and had done, by
now she was sitting back smugly. She was obviously so completely
delusional and out of touch with reality, she actually thought
he was wounded by her abuse, or had just been shown his properplace at the master’s feet. Did she have some alternative plan
up her sleeve to grow what seeds she’d started here? After all,
she’d just abused and attacked him? Why would she do this? Why
did she think he wouldn’t walk out and never come back here
again?
Yet, due to the seeds of mental illness planted here this
day in his unconscious mind, but yet to flourish out of all
manageable conscious control, he was wounded? Due to his work
and his desire to always retain conscious perspective, he’d
merely suffered a delayed reaction. He could now feel the
internal UE-generated conflict and negative energy, beginning to
rise in him, and attack his own/ed sense of his true conscious
self, and his unique conscious talents and belief system DCCmade-with-UE-style. A whole bunch of evil purpose serving,
nightmarishly paradoxical lies and abusive thoughts of the type
Jorgen had just come out with, accompanied this negative energy.
The negative impact was ten times what it should be in a
normal patient, for he knew what this World/life situation
really reflected of the overall Postmescic-mind-God-remaking
picture/agenda that related to humanity as a whole. Also, after
working on the subject of anti-conscious evil for so long, his
conscious mind and sense of independent and unique conscious
self was very distant. He felt so susceptible then to primal
hate, or should he think, suffering for a burst of negative
energy generated by the UE. The fact was UE, following fixed
patterns, had to react to evil in a certain way. UE was meant to
allow human beings to judge rite from wrong, the correct way to
act, and the incorrect way to act. Yet human society was so sick
and twisted ugly, the thinking of the day so misleading, most
people would probably imagine Jorgen was only trying to do her
job and give help?
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
175
She was in fact like some serial killer following some
self-set cycle of destruction. Only instead of murdering a
person every month so she could feel good, she tortured and
attacked one patient after another, in order to get her feelgood fix, because at this stage if she didn’t torture and attack
a patient, she herself would get agitated and sick?
What chance then did Robinson have of safely resolving the
Postmescic-Roger issue? Was it any wonder people went around
ranting and raving and screaming and roaring and shrieking there
was no free lunches in this World/life, and all good times had
to be paid for in some way? Just like the RO-seniors’ had been
reported to say, before shitting and urinating and spitting all
over Roger’s 5B-bed containing the photograph of a naked whore,
as an act of revenge because Roger had robbed the RO-seniors’
steaks?
But why shouldn’t there be free lunches and good times for
all? Humanity had the technology and the means? Why would the
majority remain miserable? Why would the majority tolerate
living in a failed society that did not benefit the majority,
only the lucky few, when it was the majority that decided what
reality was for human society? And even the lucky few were
probably full of hate and had reasons to despair and the desire
to punish and exploit others and take revenge and constantly
punish all and keep all people down and ignorant? Yet collective
humanity had no one to answer to but collective humanity? Why
then such self-war and division and excuses to blame others for
the UE in the self, the real enemy of conscious humanity? That
was a UE that only became unstable because people were not doing
the rite thing, and were in a state of constant division and
self-war, and out to cause others to suffer for the conflict UE
generated in the individual?
Why? Why would people put up with this? Why would he and
she actually go out and vote in politicians who were so selfcorrupt he or she worked to maintain a corrupt and unfair
World/life, and never felt the overwhelming desire to change the
system into a fair and just system? Why would anyone even listen
to the conscious decoding, feel-good, give a lift speeches/lies
Politicians came out with, in order to self-justify the
maintaining of a failed system that caused the UE in people to
become so unstable in the first place, the conscious decoding
feel good speeches/lies were then required to trick people into
maintaining the failed system that caused the UE to become
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
176
unstable and generate negative energy and conflict in the first
place? If a Politician was so stupid and ignorant he couldn’t
even understand how the World/life could be made into a better
place, why would he even get into Politics in the first place?
What rite did such morons have to try and run the World/life
show? So the moron could conspire to make things even the worse
off, to add to the self-corruption, just so he could feel
important and become rich and famous because the failed society
he was out to maintain, caused his UE to become unstable and
generate negative energy? And yet the too-same failed society
that as such celebrated failures and the works of failures, said
for he to be happy and whole again he had to get fame and money
and power?
Yet if the majority was a UE-human pawn, and no one would
ever give Robinson the chance to even expose the truth behind
the UE-poison, how could there be an Inora-mind-God? An evil God
really had to have created the World/life, and everyone in it,
and the Inora/IG/soul represented delusions?
Typically enough, and predictable to her very last word,
Jorgen ended her last session with Robinson by relentlessly
repeating the exact same conscious-self-deconstructing-patterns.
‘You’re not angered by what I said earlier about your work,
George?’
He decided to tell Jorgen the truth in all sincerity. As a
conscious mind he was not angered, just a detached and selfhorrified witness to a true World/life horror show put on by a
woman he could never respect, only deplore. As she was a UEhuman pawn trying to add to IT-all that meant the ultimate
destruction of the entire human race. But by he being fully
truthful and honest now, as he always tried to be, he knew he
was in effect only giving Jorgen the very information she could
use, as both her means, and her mean spirited motivation, to
take even further revenge on him for no logical conscious-reason
that would make any sense to anyone. The woman had to be out of
her mind! She barely even knew him, and yet already she had made
him into the great enemy along with the rest of the human race?
REMEMBER WHAT YOU THOUGHT EARLIER…
SHE LAID ONLY THE SEEDS OF MENTAL ILLNESS HERE THIS DAY…
WHAT PLAN DOES SHE HAVE
TO ENSURE THE SEEDS OF MENTAL ILLNESS GROW
UNTIL OUT OF ALL MANAGEABLE CONSCIOUS-CONTROL
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
177
AND YET YOU OUT NOW
TO LEARN HOW TO SAFELY MANAGE POSTMESCIC-IT ALL?
This subject been his job he realized he had to go ahead
with his plan just to prove to the self what he already knew.
‘Sure, my wife Lisa thinks I’m writing garbage to. I showed
my work to a priest. He is a theologian. He has had his own/ed
academic books published. He’d only be laughing.’ He’d just told
Jorgen, Lisa thought he was writing garbage to? What would the
so-called good doctor, meant to be out to cure him of his socalled mental illness, do with this particular piece of
information? Yet equally, Jorgen knew that Lisa was just a
housewife. He had also told her that a priest, with his own/ed
books published, and who was a self-trained theologist, had
liked his work, and who as such should have an opinion more
relevant than Lisa’s? ‘He thought my file was great. He said if
published, it would create a real stir and become a real Cult
novel.’ Robinson had known in advance that since he was dealing
with an alien issue he should first get the opinion of someone
he trusted to some degree, to ensure what he was writing was not
so unique, as to be totally out of touch. Prior to he giving
Jorgen enough symbolic rope to hang herself with spiritually, so
she would betray the type of evil delusions and abuse that was
considered socially acceptable wisdom or proper conduct and
practice, the fashions/rage of the day, or as a good way to hurt
and torture and destroy others in this present day and age.
Jorgen hadn’t betrayed much. In reaction to a UEhate/revenge-drive of a standard design in each and every
unconscious human mind, she’d just ranted and raved and screamed
and shrieked and roared a bunch of evil-inspired, incoherent
judgmental abuse and madness and paranoia and mental illness and
lies in a calm tone of voice for a while, while motivated by the
UE-inspired hate/revenge-desire to wound and torture and attack
him-the concept of the great enemy that had to be humiliated and
beaten down and shown his proper place at the bottom of the heap
of broken bodies and minds, she couldn’t even define. Jorgen had
studied very hard, so she could have a whole wealth of so-called
knowledge at her disposal, so she could more effectively abuse
and torture and attack and damage others. She could also then
have increasingly more complex arguments and so-called good
reasons she could then use, to confuse and mislead others she
was secretly out to destroy.
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
178
The truth was Robinson had been given two honest opinions
about his File-R.I.P./unedit. One from a priest expected to be
good. The other from a murderer who had killed his best friend,
had helped an inmate to commit suicide, and after breaking out
of prison had killed two cops while trying to rob a bottle of
wine. While behind bars he had studied and had become a
qualified lawyer, and so should be expected to be bad. This
murderer had been so impressed by Robinson’s file, when Robinson
had acted like it was no big deal, the murderer had asked in
shock… Do you even know?
Everyone else in socially acceptable society asked for an
honest opinion, had willfully, and with full malice intent, and
backed up by nothing other than a UE-inspired hate/revengedrive, lied and insulted him and had tried to view him with
belittling contempt as if he was some talentless buffoon in the
hope of sabotaging him. And for no conscious-gain either, other
than Postmescic-mind-God remaking-gain. In short the old rule
was repeated. When nobody was threatened by a work, then fine,
why not say something positive and laugh at the artist behind
his back. Yet when a good work came along there were no
compliments, only insults and lies, all aimed to sabotage.
Anytime Robinson reported to Lisa someone thought his work
was great, she had despaired. Anytime he had reported to her,
someone had said it was garbage that would amount to nothing,
she had rejoiced and had said SURE YOU ARE ONLY WRITING FOR
YOURSELF with glee. Jorgen would probably now guess this to be
the case. As such, the evil people in society would never allow
Robinson to have his file published, even if he did complete it
and turn it into a success-that is to say he worked out all the
answers. In regard to people reading the work, well the fact was
the Nazi Germany Propaganda machine had been very popular with
the German people. Just because the masses liked work, did not
mean the work was any good. This meant Robinson would have to
figure out a way he could be in a position to force people to
have to deal with his file, even when clearly people did not
want to. WE DON’T WANT TO KNOW! WE DON’T WANT TO LEARN ANYTHING
BUT WHAT RO-CULTURE HAS SET OUT FOR EVERYONE TO LEARN! WE WANT
TO MARCH ON SELF-DESTRUCTING SO WE GET TO FEEL IMPORTANT WHEN WE
MINDLESSLY MARCH ALONG TO THE UE-HATE/REVENGE HUMAN-HERD-DRIVE!
Jorgen smiled her phony smile as if not shocked and
secretly angered by his response. Yet in her hate/revenge desire
she recognized her opportunity. This of course was the real
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
179
reason people like Jorgen could operate. Most people weren’t
conscious fool enough to believe in psychology. But most people
did like to be given another excuse to hate those who caused his
or her UE to become agitated. There were a lot of words to be
associated with this desire to simply punish and destroy and
take revenge… jealousy, hate and envy etc… all misleading
concepts, to distract from the real UE-Postmescic-mind-Godrecreating-agenda.
‘O really… I see,’ said Jorgen with a furious smile, yet
she talked so smugly he knew she had to have some black
Postmescic arts magic trick up her sleeve she was planning on so
very soon springing, so the seeds of mental illness she had
tried to plant in his mind this day, could and would only grow
against his better conscious judgment. ‘Maybe I’ll hold onto
this then. Some day I can have you sign it for me.’ Her eyes
glinted darkly. She tried to imply she was only laughing in
belittling contempt at the concept of the sub-human mentally ill
patient having his work published to acclaim, while secretly she
plotted out how to next get him. Of course given what the human
World/life was, such a work would be unlikely to ever be
published in a failed World that could and would only celebrate
failures and the works of failures so the UE-drive to maintain a
failed World/life could be self-satisfied. Then, once again, a
RO-Culture bum like Jorgen would seemingly have the false
evidence created, to apparently self-justify everything she had
ever said to him, or about him to others. As such the UE-purpose
would be completed yet again. The mindless cycle of mindless
self-destruction could continue. No one would ever change the
RO-Culture, UE-human pawn driven status quo, until finally it
would be too late for all.
But then again, Robinson had no intention of publishing his
work unless he could tell the whole story of how he had finally
beaten IT and worked out the truth and all the answers. While if
he didn’t beat IT, there would be no humans left to read, and
self-learn from his work. And if only people like Jorgen really
were what constituted how the masses thought and wished for the
World/life to be run, the human race would deserve to be selfdestroyed collectively, and it was pure conscious Robinson who
was the spiritual error?
According to psychiatry and people like Jorgen, the ID, the
original sin, the unconscious evil intellect, the UE, was the
only unconscious intellect. As such UE was the only foundation
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
180
of the conscious personality. As such psychiatry ensured evil’s
rotten-RO-heart identity making job was done for IT, for if the
ID, the evil instinctive drives was the only unconscious
intellect, then there could ever only be a conscious human
trying to make evil-drives socially acceptable, i.e. a person
consciously decoding a rotten-RO-heart self-image, rather than
the actual fact it was a conscious decision to do this selfdestruction. In short, this would mean Satan had made the
World/life and all conscious life force spirits. There was no
pure God. There were no pure or angelic forces within universal
creation. There was no conscious soul that was the foundational
pattern representing the true conscious self. There was no IG,
and no PP:FCIC-made-with-IG then, only DCC-made-with-UE capable
of being formed, in order for all conscious life to be
mindlessly and continuously abused and destroyed.
Robinson then remembered reading that Freud had written
that people were out to destroy his and her self because he and
she didn’t try to self-satisfy the sex-drive. He chuckled at the
absurdity of IT all. Some people actually said this was the
reason there had been a World War. Yet to self-satisfy the UEinspired lust-drive to have sex only strengthened DCC-made-withUE, for lust was a mere shallow end byproduct manipulation aid
to the UE. IT then left in all the rest of the garbage negative
information society self-trained the UE to dream about. Worse,
if a soldier didn’t go to war and kill people, he was actually
called a coward. And people thought he and she would rather kill
and risk been killed, than been called a coward by society?
Once again it appeared mere concepts that weren’t even
defined, were more important to people than human World/life
itself? Of course there was no concepts, just the UE-drives,
driving people about the Mother Earth. Is this really the way
peoples actually liked to image he and she thought? Did this
type of thinking really make sense to the UE-human pawns?
At this stage he was simply at a loss. Could humanity
really be such a bunch of mindless conscious UE-sucker fools?
God help him, for the masses certainly would not!
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
181
PART 3
(OF 7-PARTS)
He knew full-well the Postmescic-mind-God would be out to
bring nothing but bad experiences into his World/life, in order
to try and self-corrupt him through the involuntary formation of
DCC-made-with-UE, and UE then generating negative energy selfdesigned to thwart and mislead and hold independent-conscioushim trapped in the past unable to find a way to advance to
victory. As such he could of being the victim of Postmescic mind
God generated bad luck in regard to he having met Jorgen.
Therefore, the day after Robinson exited Jorgen’s head office,
he made an appointment to see another psychiatrist.
The very young psychiatrist had just graduated. She sat in
her
little
office
passing
UE-inspired
shallow-end
trueindependent-conscious-self-misleading byproduct of UE-inspired
judgments based on nothing but mindless psychobabble fashion
statements (her particular bag of excuses to spread around
reasons to hate, despair, punish and to become mentally ill, and
to turn UE into the main source of conscious inspiration-despite
having no understanding of UE and UE’s real agenda). Despite the
fact that her UE-inspired judgments conformed to all evil
spiritual laws UE was the sum of, and as such were self-designed
by Postmescic Mother Nature to spread around self-corruption and
ignorance alone, she was left nearly dizzy by her desire to
self-entertain self-destructive UE-inspired delusions concerning
how she was an all-knowing big shot. IT caused her to constantly
smile as if she’d accomplished something. In reality she had
accomplished less than nothing, for nothing accomplished
nothing-while what she did was caused major harm.
Many years from now, and after too many patients actually
listened to her, and people she knew outside the office bowed
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
182
down before the authority figure who never said anything to
self-justify her position of authority, but people simply
presumed she was some all-knowing intellectual big shot, and
people bowed down before this authority figure, and so
reinforced her delusional-rotten-RO-heart-self-image as a great
expert/authority figure, the end of the line for this girl was
for her to end up just like Jorgen. She would then be someone
who expected others to suffer for her, because she was a selfish
coward who’d wished to be told what to think in her youth, so
she
could
self-justify
receiving
emotional
rewards
for
satisfying UE-drives and a rotten-RO-heart self-image. In truth
though, people like Jorgen had to know her so called great
education was worthless. Maybe this was why she was more prone
to feeling even more hate.
Robinson had no sympathy for either of the women. If a pure
foundational soul pattern did exist, and an independent
conscious spirit separate from UE, in all humans, then everyone
knew the difference between rite and wrong, what was simply the
rite thing to do during any given testing World/life time, and
how great one really was, or was not. Anyway, why did she feel a
need to feel so important, and better than everyone else, in the
first place? After all, people were mostly the same anyway, with
the exact same potential, given unconscious intellects were of a
standard design in each and every unconscious human mind?
Deciding that maybe because a male society discriminated
against women and thus women were more likely to end up
perverted and warped than men were-who got less opposition when
they tried to play the same life-role, Robinson went to see a
male psychiatrist. Of course in this instance also, the
screaming and shrieking and roaring and attacking and vomiting
of the mental trash and paranoia and mental illness and
delusions and lies was immediately and instantly forthcoming yet
again. Robinson had only begun to explain what he had gone
through, so he could then explain how he had come up with the
entirely new news he had arrived at. He’d barely started out
describing how he’d gone through the underground jailhouse
firefight and all about the killing, and how he was turning
himself into a social outcast so he could learn how to…
‘You suffered a break down, a break from reality,’ snapped
the male doctor in response to the UE-hate/revenge drive to view
Robinson as a hapless mentally ill fool who could learn nothing
new from his negative experiences, other than how to become
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
183
mentally ill and a mentally confused half wit with no insight
into his own condition, and as such had to be given medicationthe magic pill that didn’t work, to be helped to get well, and
attacked and hated and dismissed and ignored until he did.
Robinson should have known. When he had been waiting to first
see this doctor, he’d seen the doctor walking around in a huff,
full of the UE-inspired hate/revenge drive, no doubt because
he’d been brooding on some negative World/life experiences. As a
result, the conscious-fool wouldn’t even take the time to listen
to anything new that Robinson had to say. Any entirely new news
was simply and immediately dismissed as mental illness and
delusions. It made Robinson wonder then what type of so-called
information this so-called doctor had, had to learn to repeat in
order to earn his license to practice?
After all what other reason could there be for this
response? The man was a fool. He seemed to think no more than
Jorgen and the other doctor, he was some magic man, than he knew
everything already and hadn’t the time to listen to any more
rubbish out of a mentally ill half-wit. What? Did the man think
he was a mind reader, a fortune-teller, a magic person who knew
everything Robinson had gone through in the past, without even
having to be told about the true-life horror story, and how
Robinson had learned entirely new things from his experiences?
Or was the actual reality that he was another hapless UE-human
pawn, run by a UE-hate/revenge drive, and his particular bag of
mental vomit to self-satisfy this UE-hate/revenge drive, was
psychiatry, his excuse to start off with the incoherent ranting
and raving and shrieking and screaming and roaring aimed to
belittle Robinson and even to shut him up and put him in his
role as the mentally ill fool no one should waste his or her
time listening to the incoherent babble of? Was the man so dumb,
he was one of these people who thought human beings had nothing
more to learn because human beings already knew everything there
was too learn, when the complete reverse was the truth, when it
came to UE and mental illness humanity knew nothing at all?
Most disturbing then about this most particular World/life
situation was that human history had always been nothing but an
evil-serving mess of mass self-destruction, pain and violence.
Why then would any human imagine any authority figure knew
anything worthwhile, or try to believe in any educational
system? Just look at the state the human World/life was
presently in, a total failure, a true age of utter ignorance and
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
184
stupidity that birthed only the strong desire to become an even
bigger and more ignorant failure, who with each passing year had
the UE-hate/revenge drive to upset the intended plan for
creation, self-magnified until there was no more conscious
humanity left awake?
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
185
PART 4
(OF 7-PARTS)
DUE TO ALL YOUR EXPERIENCES WITH
SO MUCH BLOODY VIOLENCE AND MURDER
IN THE UNDERGROUND JAIL/HOUSE AUGUST 1963
THE MEDIA ACROSS THE LAND HAS REPORTED SO WIDELY UPON…
YOUR CONFIDENCE WAS AS GOOD AS BEATEN DOWN
UNDER/MINED INTO THE SPIRITUAL GRAVE
OF YOUR TRUE INTELLIGENT AND NATURALLY GIFTED SELF…
YOU WENT THEN TO JORGEN FOR HELP TO RESTORE YOU
TO YOUR FORMER SELF…
WHAT THEN
WAS THE SO-CALLED GREAT PSYCHOLOGICAL HEALER’S SOLUTION
BUT TO ENSURE YOU ARE BEATEN EVEN MORE DOWN PSYCHOLOGICALLY
SO YOUR TRUE SELF MIGHT BE EVEN MORE UNDER/MINED
INTO AS GOOD AS A SPIRITUAL GRAVE
SO FULL OF NEAR DEMONIC
TRUE NATURALLY GIFTED AND INTELLIGENT-SELF DEVOURING
INSANE THOUGHTS RISEN OUT OF THE UE-DEMON…
Lone behold then, not so long after his meeting with
Jorgen, and apparently out of the blue, but really so
predictably, it became apparent whose opinion Jorgen had chosen
to react to. Had it been the priest who had said Robinson had
written a great R.I.P.-file? Or had it been Lisa, the housewife,
who had said that Robinson was writing garbage?
Jorgen rang Lisa. She told Lisa there was no point in
Robinson’s new work. Robinson was only out to kid himself. Lisa,
who knew nothing about psychology or writing, but was
nonetheless
convinced
by
UE-shallow
end
true-independent-
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
186
conscious-self-misleading byproduct of UE-inspired judgments and
a UE-risen hate/revenge-drive and for no logical consciousreason that Jorgen must know everything worth knowing in this
World/life, explained to Robinson, Jorgen had rung.
Jorgen had said Jorgen didn’t think Robinson would mind her
talking to Lisa. During a previous visit, while gathering her
means to abuse and torture and attack and damage Robinson,
Jorgen had briefly and casually mentioned that Lisa, who had
made the first appointment on Robinson’s behalf, was worried
about him. Jorgen had asked Robinson if he would mind if at some
future time, Jorgen rang Lisa back. He had pretended not to
dwell on the question. He had though made sure he’d given Jorgen
his permission. Jorgen had reported to Lisa…
‘I’m very worried about him. You know, I had a young woman
as a patient. She was mildly schizophrenic. She was always
stopping and starting pointless little projects that went
nowhere, such as this book George is trying to write, and which
I see no point to. I put her on the very same medication I
presently have George on. Now she’s got a secure job with a
supermarket. She has taken a loan out on a secondhand car. She’s
so happy with herself. No more little pointless projects she
keeps stopping and starting. I want George to have the chance at
a good life again. I’m very worried. I want to get him back out
there, socializing. And if he needs a support group, before
going back out there, there is a patient workshop down in the
Baptist Hospital that meets every week. It’s not just for
patients trying to readjust to life outside the hospital. IT is
also for outpatients like George who went through so much
violence, trauma and bloodshed that August 1964 day. Yet George
has refused to go…’
Yet Robinson knew for a fact that it was widely believed
within psychiatric cycles that it was therapeutic for a patient
to create various form of art. In fact, if Robinson had gone to
an honest psychiatrist, and had said he didn’t want to write any
more, the doctor would act disappointed. He would probably
comment on what a pity and a bad idea that was, and how Robinson
was still a young man in the World/life of literature, so why
give up so soon?
Yet Jorgen was trying to get Robinson to associate pain,
mental illness, mental confusion and failure and self-torture
with his artwork, the very state of mind she thought he was in
because of traumatic World/life experiences he was trying to use
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
187
his work to sort out and work through? Equally, Jorgen knew that
Robinson was a persecuted social outcast in Silver Springs.
Everyone was gossiping about him and viewing him with contempt
and suspicion.
After Robinson cancelled his appointment and refused to
change his ways, Lisa’s true UE-inspired hate/revenge-drive
began to erupt. Like Jorgen, Lisa felt no guilt. Though Lisa
knew full well she simply wanted to destroy and attack Robinson
and turn him into her favorite torture victim, and any lie or
excuse would do, or any piece of information she could come up
with that might allow her to succeed in the job, would also do,
she knew only total self-satisfaction, if not even glee. If
anything, after she finished venting her abuse she walked around
like she was some great martyr for putting up with a mentally
ill joke husband. He was an embarrassment to the whole town-an
image of Robinson, Jorgen, the great expert of the day, had
basically said was the truth. Had Lisa always secretly viewed
Robinson as a man incapable of doing nothing else in World/life,
but acting the part of Sheriff, with rules and regulations long
since set in place, even before he had been born, to define how
he should do his job? Or was Lisa secretly jealous of him, and
wished then to use any excuse to destroy him and to stop him
from evolving into a great man, because Lisa felt as a woman
discriminated against by a male dominated society she’d been
cheated out of she getting the chance to achieve her personal
dreams for her life? But why would Lisa think to do this to her
very own/ed husband exactly? IT was almost as if Lisa didn’t
think she was going any wrong, that IT was all just a funny joke
to self-entertain her? Yet what dreams could Lisa have? The only
dreams that RO-Culture allowed the human being to self-achieve
in RO-society, were in fact nightmares for the dreams always
meant the exploitation and the abuse and humiliation and
degradation of the human being? Whether it was a businessman
turning his sweat shop workers into his slaves, or a Hollywood
star shooting and killing people as part of the real Satan dream
factory’s business to train people to think in terms of evil, or
a woman acting like a whore while singing so she could sell
records?
Did Lisa really think she had the rite to abuse others, to
make him or her suffer because she felt hate? Was there really
no morality in humanity, no goodness, other than what was
learned? Did people really feel he and she had the Postmescic-
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
188
mind-God-given rite to abuse and destroy anyone he and she were
told was no good? Or even someone he or she was told no else
would care about, if he or she abused him or her?
Look at how blacks had been treated in this country, and
homosexuals, and American Indians? Look at how those minority
groups had reacted by destroying his and her self? Did people
really feel he or she had the rite to make others suffer, to
take away his and her rites, to abuse him and her, and yet he
and she felt no guilt, only self-satisfaction if not glee? Yet
people didn’t take abuse either? People lashed back! In response
to been abused by whites, some black people abused his and her
own/ed children? Crime was at its highest among the poor!
Society was self-punished and self-destroyed! IT was madness!
Madness!
As such, by causing trouble in the marriage, Jorgen should
have reinforced and magnified the DCC-made-with-UE she had
strived to form in Robinson, when he had been talking to her in
her head office. She had planted the seeds of mental illness she
had then worked out a way by getting her mental vomit into his
very own/ed home, to force to grow against conscious-Robinson’s
better judgment? Lisa was his wife after all, the mother of his
only son little Richard. He’d formed a deeply emotional bond
with Lisa. He did in fact share the same home as she did. The
married couple were legally and financially bonded by the man
made law of the land so even if he wanted to, he simply could
not just walk away one day without first going to considerable
legal, financial and emotional trouble? He was in fact then what
Lisa had wanted in reaction to her primal fears for the future,
a form of a slave to her? Yet no one should have the rite to
control another who did not want IT? Thanks to The Post/man, and
the communications age, where Robinson could study the exact
same destructive-patterns been repeated the World/life over, in
every so-called diverse culture and age, he knew better. As
such, Jorgen failed to exploit primal UE-inspired hate, to
ensure his conscious thoughts were misdirected and mislead into
conscious-self-deconstructing thinking, and he felt his own/ed
sense of true conscious self, and his unique talents under
constant attack from UE.
Of course then Robinson did not lash back at conscious
humanity. He knew who the real enemy of conscious humanity was.
IT was not conscious humanity but UE. So he lashed back at
UE/Postmescic IT by using all negative energy raised in him to
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
189
try and drive him to work out a solution to IT all, and to do
the complete reverse of what UE compelled him to do. Yet Lisa
was meant to be Robinson’s wife. She was meant to honor him in
sickness and in health, until death. She had betrayed all of him
for nothing. Lisa’s hatred was not aimed at injustice, but aimed
at a man out to resolve an injustice?
It horrified Robinson to learn that most humans ended up
this twisted ugly, that it was the truth most humans felt the
most hate for. Lisa was just like Jorgen. For some unknown
reason, Lisa had self-set an evil-pattern down within her. This
pattern constantly repeated. The anger would build up. She’d
turn Robinson into her torture victim, then try to attack him,
puke out her abuse on him, then get rid of the negative energy,
go away, and once again the negative pattern would begin to
repeat until the negative energy built up again like clockwork,
and then once again the serial pattern would be repeated,
Robinson would become the torture victim she puked her mental
vomit all over, like a cloud of blackest spiritual poison
spewing out of a physical/spiritual death/evil machine. For
there was just a conscious mind-void of goodness thus hovering
over a UE dreaming up mental vomit that was the drama that
conformed to all evil spiritual laws UE was the sum of, and thus
was then at regular intervals puked out of Lisa at Robinson.
Robinson was attacked as some great and terrible enemy that had
to be beaten down and kept down as some mentally ill slave and
torture victim, bullied and nagged at and controlled, while
simultaneously Lisa’s physical body was a death machine. She ate
mostly the flesh of murdered animals and wore the skins of
murdered animals as her clothes and shoes. Was there any
conscious
humanity
left
self-aware
within
this
void
of
spiritual/mortal devouring/spewing death machine?
THE FLAW IS NOT IN THE DESIGN OF THE UE
OF A STANDARD DESIGN IN EACH AND EVERY UNCONSCIOUS HUMAN MIND…
BUT IN THE UNHALLOWED CONSCIOUS HUMAN SPIRIT…
HE AND SHE SMILE WHILE CONTEMPLATING EVIL AND INJUSTICE
AND FAILURES AND THE WORK OF FAILURES…
BUT HE AND SHE FROWN WHEN CONTEMPLATING TRUTH AND GOODNESS
AND GREAT TALENTS AND THE WORK OF GREAT TALENTS…
THIS MEANS NOTHING AT ALL TO ME! OF COURSE EVERYTHING YOU
HAVE BEEN DOING, HAS BEEN NOTHING BUT ONE GREAT BIG ACT OF
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
190
DENIAL… was by now Lisa’s favorite argument. It was effective
abuse Lisa would not have come up with, if alone. Jorgen had not
spent
years
studying
for
nothing.
The
greater
scholar/teacher/healer Jorgen had self-learned how to teach all
rite; teach people like Lisa how to turn a mere UE-learning aid
on the subject of Postmescic mortality and of a standard design
in each and every unconscious human mind, and meant to be a
conscious mind’s slave, how to best destroy the unique
consciousness. Now every out of character word and thought he
had, and anything he did that Lisa didn’t like, or that
contradicted Lisa’s view of him as a hapless spit drooling goon
she was so much smarter than, and he incapable of amounting to,
or doing anything of significant in this World/life… and any
anger or frustration he displayed in reaction to he been the
victim of Lisa’s constant hate and abuse and mental vomit puked
out of her UE dreaming up nightmares in reaction to the UEpurpose-serving-drama Jorgen had fed in there… was a byproduct
of his mental illness.
Talking about wishing to attack and utterly destroy a
unique conscious person, and his unique conscious life force
spirit talents? Yet knowing no desire to stop the UE-rot ROCulture status quo? Only a desire to spread the rot, and
maintain the RO-Culture DCC-made-with-UE-making status quo until
World/life event/circumstances changed for the worst, as they
inevitably would have to, when everyone was spreading around
anti-conscious negative energy on everyone else, and people
weren’t prepared to put up with suffering abuse and wished to
lash back? Yet if he ever told Lisa the truth she became full of
hate and would sneer…
HOLD ON A MINUTE! THIS IS NOT SO.
She didn’t care. In truth, Lisa immediately sided with the
gossiping neighbors. Lisa told the neighbors she was glad she
had support because of the pathetic husband she had to deal
with. He had quiet a cheek to be writing a file on a barbaric
mass-murderer who had killed real people, who had real surviving
family members. He was a murderer who had wished to blame
everyone else for the great evil in the self. He then had
brought bad publicity to the town of Silver Springs. Robinson
was only doing so in a bid to advance his own/ed career. The
priest who had said good things about his work was only a fool
who’d probably had to self-publish his own work, while the
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
191
murderers up in prison were mentally ill. Jorgen knew everything
for sure!
All these World/life years had his wife secretly hated his
guts, and now that she’d been given the excuse, the true evil
hiding just below the surface was erupting? What wrong had he
ever done? Where was the great crime he was guilty of?
‘Hold on a minute! This is more of your mental illness. Of
course IT is. You’ve been out to kid yourself, and avoid reality
all of this time, and condemn me for knowing this! You need to
see someone… It’s best people are told if there is any point to
their work…’
‘Lisa, you know nothing about what education Jorgen went
through… Or what ideas I might be privy too… All this crap about
women been put in their place by men is just the excuse, the
mere
shallow
end
true-independent-conscious-self-misleading
camouflage UE uses, as it reenacts the essential ethos and
spirit of some bad memories of you been put in your place by
men, in order to trick you into consciously self-mirroring with
and then acting upon the UE-hate/revenge drive directed at me
you wish to be your torture victim, symbolic Human Reason
Victim! You’re all nothing but a herd of UE-human pawns then,
out to trample me to spiritual/physical death for daring to be a
intelligent and wise and talented and insightful and unique
conscious being rising above the RO-Culture status quo and
trying to work out a solution to IT all.’
‘What? What? You’re mentally ill! Dr. Jorgen knows what
she’s talking about, you can be sure of this!’ Lisa smirked that
she could actually say this, and not just be listened to, but be
backed up by a professional with a degree, and an entire Silver
Springs society. In short Lisa was saying…
I and Jorgen will exploit the reactionary thinking law, in
order to self-resurrect primal hate in you… accompanied by a
body-of-UE-purpose-serving-information/mental
vomit…
so
you
cannot safely incorporate UE into the personality due to the
primal hate/negative energy we work to self-resurrect into
conscious-you-aimed to destroy independent conscious you… and
cannot think logically as an independent and unique conscious
being trying to remain a detached conscious observer of UEoperations in you, if you try to consciously consider and take
seriously the evil logic we vent. This means you are forced on
the road to becoming mentally confused and mentally ill. Every
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
192
time you react in a negative way, we get to condemn you, and
create the false evidence to prove you are mentally ill.
But how long would Lisa’s abuse continue, if everyone in
her World/life environment was not supporting her, but attacking
her, and saying she was wicked to do what she was doing to her
only husband? After all, Lisa had been just looking for any
excuse to get him, but had not really bothered to try, until
Jorgen had told Lisa what she wanted most to hear?
Did Lisa even believe Jorgen knew what she was talking
about, while people like the priest with his own books
published, and the murderers up in prison, did not? In truth the
only conclusion Robinson could draw was that Lisa didn’t care.
She knew Jorgen was full of shit. In truth, Lisa just wanted any
old excuse to attack and destroy and belittle and humiliate
another human being as her personal symbolic Human Reason
Victim. But that was just the point. The UE-human pawns
instinctively choose to support Lisa because of course he and
she were the UE-human pawns who would turn and attack and
destroy anyone who he and she were given the UE-signal to attack
and destroy. This was the biggest joke of all of course.
Given the mindless heard mentality of the sub-human animals
he stood no chance of victory… Collectively, he and she would
drag him down with him and her to… Yet he had always known Lisa
the constant pleasure seeker who would do anything at any given
moment to feel better in the self, no matter who had to suffer,
would betray him at the first given World/life testing
opportunity. For in the past he had often heard Lisa say about
people getting married so young…
IT’S BECAUSE OF THE SEX.
If one could believe in any of the logic the UE-human pawns
came out with to self-justify behavior…
Lisa was a great victim, who had been cheated out of her
youth, a career and a World/life, and her husband was to blame.
As such, she became full of hate anytime she thought of her
husband succeeding in his career and making his World/life into
a big success story? This time the excuse, if there even was an
excuse being thought in her conscious mind… and it simply wasn’t
just the case that even Lisa knew she was simply full of spite
and hate and the desire to destroy and punish another… was that
all men were to blame. For men had decided a woman’s place was
in the home. Jorgen though, had not allowed this to be her end
fate.
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
193
REMEMBER NOW ROBINSON IT WAS LISA WHO CONVINCED YOU
TO ACCEPT THE BELIEF DOROTHY PHILPOT
ONLY HAD YOUR VERY BEST INTERESTS IN HER ROTTEN-RO-HEART
WHEN SHE DISMISSED YOUR IG-INSPIRED-WOODCARVINGS
AND BRONZE SCULPTINGS AS TRASH AND CHEAPENED AND BULLIED YOU SO
SO YOU MIGHT FINALLY KNOW WHAT THE REAL ADULT WORLD/LIFE
IS REALLY ALL ABOUT
AND LISA PROCLAIMING DOROTHY PHILPOT A GREAT WOMAN
WHILE YOU WERE FIRST DATING LISA AND YOU IN SO-CALLED LOVE
WITH YOUR UE-INSPIRED LUSTFUL ACHE AND LONGING FOR LISA
GUT/VISCERAL/UNCONSCIOUS/EMOTIONAL REACTIONS ALONE
AND YET BY NOW LISA HAS INEVITABLY BETRAYED YOU
FOR THE SECOND TIME JUST BECAUSE
CHANGING WORLD/LIFE EVENT/CIRCUMSTANCES SEEM TO SELF-JUSTIFY IT
TO THE CONSTANT PLEASURE SEEKER
WHO WILL DO ANYTHING TO FEEL BETTER AT ANY GIVEN MOMENT
NO MATTER WHO HAS TO SUFFER!
HA! HA!! HE! HE!!
WHEN LISA DID WRONG TO OTHER PEOPLE IN THE PAST
YOU OVERLOOKED THIS BEHAVIOR BECAUSE SHE ALWAYS SIDED WITH YOU
AND WAS NICE TO YOU AND HAD SEX WITH YOU
AND YOU SIMPLY PRESUMED THE GOOD IN YOU, YOU PROJECTED ONTO HER
WAS ALWAYS IN HER-SO NICE TO YOU
UNTIL NOW WORLD/LIFE-EVENT/CIRCUMSTANCES-CHANGE
UNTIL THIS-TIME IT IS YOU LISA WRONG/S
NOW THAT SHE HAS GROWN FED UP OF YOU!
YET, HAS LISA BETRAYED YOU ROBINSON?
GOOD LISA, AS MUCH AS THE SAINT
KNOWS ONLY UE OPERATES IN THIS SOCEITY
SO EVEN IF YOU SUCCEED IN WHAT YOU ARE TRYING TO SUCCEED AT
ALL THE RESULTS OF YOUR WORLD/LIFE WORK
WILL BE THROWN OUT WITH THE TRASH WHEN YOU DIE
AND NO MORE WILL EVER COME OF IT THAN THAT…
SO WHAT IS THE POINT OF YOUR WORK AGAIN?
JORGEN, LISA, AND THE SAINT DOROTHY PHILPOT
ARE GOOD PEOPLE, SIMPLY TRYING TO STEER YOU RITE!
Robinson read a newspaper story detailing the case of a
homosexual son who murdered his mother. Apparently, the
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
194
homosexual son had dated a married man who had left his wife.
The married man returned to his wife. The homosexual son went
home to live with his mother. Had the mother hated homosexuals?
Had she turned against her only blood and flesh and bone son
already mentally disturbed after his failed relationship with a
married man, just like Lisa had turned against her husband, over
some concept she could not even define? Is that why the
homosexual had gone insane enough to think to kill his own/ed
mother, over some concept he could not even define, really an
unstable UE? Had the mother made mocking comments to the son,
viewed him as a leering sexually depraved goon, and this man
already beaten down by a society who persecuted homosexuals?
When Robinson considered what might have happened to him if
he had faced into all of this, and had tried his best to do what
was simply rite, without having first read the Killian Schull
essay homework and the Post/man letters, he physically quaked,
chilled to the marrow of his foundational bones. He felt the
urge to puke as it began to dawn on him just what a paradoxical
nightmare his entire World/life existence would have been
reduced to, so quickly. Yet Pete Davie had cheated the whole
conscious human World/life out of the real truth that lurked
behind UE? Why should people treat Robinson, and any potential
results he gleamed, any differently than he and she had Roger
Madican James?
All of this constantly reoccurring and so repetitious
World/life repetition led him to the intended understanding of
some of The Post/man’s rules in this damnation game. Most
important was to always, always give people enough symbolic rope
to hang his or her self with spiritually. Robinson could only
allow really good people, with true conscious-self-awareness and
inherent belief in conscious good onto this case, who, once
shown the proper alien evidence of Postmescic-evil, did not need
to be told, and needed no motivation, to simply do what was
rite, all the way to the most bloody and truly ugly end.
Certainly, later on, once the pressure was really put on people
working this truly alien business, it would be too late then for
Robinson to find himself landed with a morally bankrupted
conscious mind-conscious decoding a rotten-RO-heart self-image?
Or even an IG/soul pawn only interested in feeling good about
the self by receiving emotional rewards for indulging shallow
fantasies that were the shallow end byproduct of the IG and soul
dreaming up positive imagery or holy visions in reaction to the
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
195
type of shallow end byproduct fantasy output of the soul and IG
that swamped society, usually in the name of some Religion? And
yet ready to respond to the UE-drive to attack and thwart what
made him or her suffer, and as such, have a pure liability
working for him?
Robinson had discovered a major truth about the UE-human
pawns. If a UE-human-pawn opened a DCC-made-with-UE and accepted
the UE-hate/revenge drive within, and some delusional excuse to
hate a good person, and that good person was all charming and
nice to the UE-human pawn who then decided to treat the good
person fairly, as soon as there was any sort of testing and
stressful World/life event incident in regard to the good
person, the UE-human pawn would immediately revert back to
accepting the previous UE-hate-revenge drive in regard to the
good person. For some reason once a UE-human pawn formed a DCCmade-with-UE backed up by a UE-hate/revenge drive aimed at
hating a good person, this DCC-made-with-UE never, ever broke or
was ever, ever really left go of. It was always there in the
background, just simmering away like a black sea of mental
vomit, just waiting to erupt at the first given excuse. Yet
Robinson had long since successfully removed so many DCC-madewith-UE that had once formed in him, simply by he always
thinking the correct thing as an independent conscious mind
until the DCC-made-with-UE was all but reversed out of
existence?
SALESMAN was the word the Post/man had written… But where
to find any such good peoples? Did such good people exist at
all, given human history had succeeded in self-resurrecting the
Postmescic-mind-God in the first place? Was it true? Was it
Robinson out of step, because he was the freak show, the
spiritual error in this World/life? Maybe other people weren’t
born with an IG or a soul, just UE? Yah, maybe Robinson was
simply a freak accidental creation in Mother Nature? Isn’t that
how people said all World/life evolved? There was a mutation.
The animal with the mutation mated with another animal. The
mutation was passed down through the gene pool. Slowly,
gradually it began to evolve into something new? Was Robinson
nothing but a mutation, one of a tiny few, yet to change the
status quo that was the majority? Like tigers with stripes that
moved into a new landscape filled with snow, and then there were
countless generations before the majority of tigers were born
white so they could best adapt to the environmental conditions?
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
196
PART 5
(OF 7-PARTS)
Ultimately then, the predictable World/life situation
concerning Jorgen and Lisa had given Robinson some hope of
dealing
with
IT,
by
he
anticipating
and
making
some
counteractive black Postmescic arts predictions of his own/ed.
Roger had used his Killian Schull essay homework to
forewarn all readers that when another subjected a victim to UEinspired abuse, then even the victim’s UE compelled that
conscious-individual to try and take that conscious-selfdeconstructing evil-inspired judgmental information seriously…
That the morally bankrupt state of mind the abuser knew could be
recreated in the victim… and around and around the spinning
conscious-self-mirroring wheel of evil went throughout all.
As expected then, he was blasted by the following
nightmarishly paradoxical thoughts…
THE SEEDS OF MENTAL ILLNESS PLANTED… DO GROW…
RITE ON AROUND BY ALL RITES MIGHTY ROBINSON
THIS SPINNING, SELF-GREASED, AND SELF-MIRRORING WHEEL OF EVIL
THAT ONLY APPEARS TO REVOLVE THROUGHOUT ALL!
FOR YOU ONLY NOW LIKE TO THINK HAPLESS-UE-HUMAN-PAWN JORGEN
WAS TRYING TO EXPLOIT THE FIXED TRAIT
THAT WHEN A MENTALLY CONFUSED PATIENT OF HERS
WAS CALLED INTO QUESTION BY THE GREAT HEALER JORGEN
WITH HER PAPER DEGREE OF HIGHER LEARNING
THE PATIENTS UE WOULD TURN INWARDS TOWARDS SELF-JUDGING
AND THUS MAKING A SELF-TORMENTING CONCIOUS-PATIENT
CONSTANTLY SELF-JUDGE AND QUESTION HIMSELF
INTO CONSCIOUS-SELF-DECONSTRUCTION AND MISS-DIRECTION
UNTIL CONFORMITY TO RO-CULTURE WAS ACHIEVED…
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
197
UE AS THE MAIN SOURCE OF CONSCIOUS INSPIRATION
AND NO REAL INDEPENDENT SENSE OF CONSCIOUS SELF LEFT AWAKE…
BUT NOW IT APPEARS IN YOU SELF-JUDGING JORGEN, MIGHTY ROBINSON
YOU WERE EVER ONLY SELF-JUDGING YOUR SELF
AND YOUR STOLEN POST/MAN IDEA TO ALWAYS GIVE PEOPLE
ENOUGH SYMBOLIC ROPE TO HANG HIS AND HER SELF WITH SPIRITUALLY
IN-ORDER TO FEED YOUR SELF WITH HATRED
IN-ORDER TO DRIVE YOUR SELF TO WORK LIKE A DEMON-POSSESSED
FOR A RESOLUTION…
BUT ONLY A SELF-RESOLUTION
TO YOUR OWN/ED CONFUSED CONSCIOUS-SELF…
AND ARROGANCE THE ONLY MOTIVATION…
…SO CONFUSED AS TO BE WHOLY UNWILLING TO ACCEPT
THE GREAT AND SINCERE JORGEN’S TRULY GREAT EFFORTS TO HEAL YOU
FROM YOU CONTINUING WITH YOUR LOST AND DELUSIONAL CAUSE…
SIMPLY LEAD ASTRAY FROM YOUR ORIGINAL CONSCIOUS SELF
YOU CAN EVER ONLY LEAD YOURSELF BACK TO
YOUR ORIGINAL CONSCIOUS SELF…
AND NOTHING NEW LEARNED ALONG THE WAY…
He had always known that willfully creating paradox snares
in his own/ed personality… and trying to work out the various
different states of mind Roger Madican James had known, so
Robinson might then work out how to cure Roger of all DCC-madewith-UE and thus get the Postmescic mind God supported by the
DCC-made-with-UE-framework out of him… would cause Robinson
great stress and frustration, as UE tried to pull him down into
hate and confusion and conscious-self-deconstruction. Yet, no
matter how many counter made to measures he’d come up with, he
had not been self-trained, self-prepared, self-educated, selfstyled for the sheer intensity of this happening, and the
subsequent mental confusion.
Robinson though did not stop his work. He needed to trap
himself in a World/life situation where he felt constantly
compelled to work truth out of the UE. This way, even when the
going got really tough, he would be less likely to try to pull
out. He knew if UE repeated the same instinctive-negativepattern within him, often enough… and did so in reaction to
fictional reasons he gave to other people, as his or her reasons
to abuse him… he should be able to figure out ways to not just
anticipate how UE worked, but also how to manipulate UE for his
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
198
own/ed end gains and goals. After all, if he gave other people
fictional reasons to abuse him, then how could he confuse his UE
reacting in a predetermined manner to fictional reasons, as
anything but UE reacting UE‘s-instinctual-pattern as predictable
as a machine, because UE did not know the difference between
fact and fiction? He’d hardly end up believing, due to stress,
the fictional reasons he gave to other people to abuse him, were
real and self-justified reasons, given he had been the one who
had made up such fictional reasons in the first place? He’d
hardly think he wished to lash back at conscious humanity,
instead of driving himself to resolve the great UE/Postmescic
mystery?
Paradoxically, he knew the first thing he would have to do,
prior to he being in any fit state of mind to work on IT on any
real significant level, was to break through, and past, all of
the nightmarishly paradoxical logic of all paradox snare’s, and
mere reactionary thinking and conscious decoding governed by
DCC-made-with-UE… so he could consciously cultivate logic out of
his soul that could put a quick end to all DCC-made-with-UE as
soon as they formed in him.
This was easily decided upon, but very hard to do. Society
was
flooded
with
faulty
and
nightmarishly
paradoxical
information and outright lies, designed by the UE-hate/revenge
drive to stop this from happening, and to ensure all people in a
society remained spiritually sick and under UE’s direct
influence.
Lisa was growing increasingly worse. This was because he
had dared to tell Lisa not to worry about money anymore. Soon,
he would be getting a new job based on his R.I.P.-file-whose
contents proved he was now ready to begin his new career. This
career would ensure an income at least twice what he had earned
during his best year as Sheriff. The thought of Robinson
actually succeeding and contradicting her UE-directed judgmental
view of him, caused Lisa to double her bid to frustrate him, and
mislead him from his future career. Like Jorgen, Lisa actually
got upset and spiritually sick, not in reaction to injustice,
but in reaction to Robinson obtaining justice and advancing his
career and getting to succeed in his own World/life. This was
the case despite the fact that if Robinson did advance his
career, Lisa would receive more money? Yet anytime Robinson said
no one would ever give him a break, no matter what he did or
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
199
said, just so he might see how Lisa would react, Lisa would
become full of demonic glee and good cheer?
Lisa had been a firsthand eyewitness to how Michael
Riordan’s attitude had changed since August-9TH–1964. October–
1964 when Michael Riordan had shown up at the Robinson
household, so Michael and Robinson could go to RO to collect the
permanent-RO-records, Michael had acted more like Robinson’s
employee. Soon, Lisa was directing her hate to the subject of
Michael Riordan. She shouted that Michael was a born conscious
fool who had affairs behind Deirdre’s back, because he was so
pathetic he couldn’t get over his male pride being hurt, when as
a kid it had been up to his father to get him out of the IRA.
‘What work? My God, if Alice was to read what your files
detail, and about whom! If she only knew about some of those
scumbags you’ve contacted, and are actually pen-pals with, and
whom you get on with so well?’
Unknown to the rest of Silver Springs, he had started to
interview murderers and seriously violent criminals up at
Richmond State Penitentiary. Alice was the next-door neighbor.
She suffered from depression. In short, Alice was a selfish and
judgmental, if not evil and hate-filled person always looking
for someone to suffer for the evil in her? Otherwise why would
Lisa immediately think to fear what Alice would think in
reaction to Robinson’s work? The fact was once Alice was given a
torture victim she could direct her hate at, such as Robinson
the local community supported people hating, she would never,
ever let go of that reason to hate.
‘You’re not a violent man George!’ Lisa said. ‘Those
scumbags are all after only what they can get out of you! You’re
not one of them! Were you left that scared by your World/lifeexperiences August-9TH, you’re now trying to pretend you are that
tough? Those James’ people were always a tough crew. Alice told
me she used to watch Theresa James staggering around drunk,
thumbing her nose at the whole World/life. When Theresa James
noted your predecessor following her, she’d openly laugh in his
face. She’d dare the dumb pig to try arresting her. She knew he
could do nothing about her bad behavior! And that Ken James,
Jesus, was the whole town glad when he was dead! What would
Alice think?’
So in other words, Alice had spied on Theresa, so Alice
could have a private laugh at an alcoholic trapped in hell, and
who Alice was given support from other locals when she told lies
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
200
about and made nasty and demeaning comments about, her very own
symbolic Human Reason Victim she wished to constantly torture,
because when she did she got to feel powerful and happy? What
now was Lisa trying to imply? Robinson wanted to pretend he was
a tough guy/bad ass to? Based on what, Lisa’s view of Michael
Riordan? An image flashed of his sister Mary, calling Robinson a
John Wayne-like-cowboy, after Robinson had dealt with the sex
pervert Elliot Dexter, when Robinson had blasted a bullet
through the headboard above his bed.
Lisa was trying to twist the pure-conscious-motivations of
a good man, trying to safely resolve great injustice, into the
UE-inspired motivations of a small and pathetic man, trying to
pretend he was himself a killer, or even a man who should feel
as guilty as a killer due to the subject he was working on?
Lisa’s willful and highly confused savagery was beyond belief?
Yet what exactly was the great and mighty and most terrible
crime Robinson was guilty of, for everyone to have turned
against him like a herd of savage animals?
How could he have been so blind all of this time, he’d
never even known the true evil his own/ed so severely sick and
twisted ugly and warped wife served? Worse, Lisa ranted and
raved that his work meant nothing to her, that she didn’t
understand IT? And what? She thought she understood her own/ed
belief system society had stuffed her mind full of, and that she
simply repeated like a parrot did an owner’s name when the
parrot had no real understanding of the word? Yet Robinson could
all but guarantee if Lisa had to exactly explain her own/ed
belief system, whether it be the religion she had been raised to
belief in, or even the books she read or the movies she watched,
she couldn’t explain them either? For society was all about
taking children and getting him and her to have emotional and
gut/visceral responses to what he and she were told was the
truth, and the child grew up thinking he or she understood what
he and she simply presumed he and she understood due to gut
reactions, but did not understand at all!
After all, if Lisa were raised in a different culture or
age, she would believe in an entirely different religion, and
would like different forms of entertainment and foods, but the
UE-hate/revenge drive would be the exact same… Hell, if she were
born into a primitive tribe she’d like dancing to the beat of a
wooden drum beaten by a witch doctor out to make a human selfsacrifice to a sun God! He had to wonder then what Lisa would
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
201
have thought and done if she’d been born and raised in time for
Nazi Germany?
THE ROAD TO SALVATION WILL BE YOUR CURSE…
ALL ILLUSIONS OF THERE BEING PURE CONSIOUS LIFE STRIPPED BARE
RITE BEFORE YOUR VERY OWN/ED DISBELIEVING EYES…
AND ANOTHER SYMBOLIC MILESTONE AS GOOD AS HUNG
FROM YOUR OWN/ED SELF-HANGED DUMMY’S-NECK… …FOR EVERY MILE…
THE HUMANS ALL SO-CALLED SELF-INTERESTED
SELF-SERVING ANIMALS, ALL…
AT LEAST HE AND SHE LIKE TO IMAGINE HE AND SHE ARE…
Given Roger had said due to internal conflict with UE,
every conscious human has his or her price or prize, he or she
believe worth falling to a state of self-corruption in the name
of, Robinson knew this Postmescic-mind-God remaking business
concerning simply everything, could be his price or prize? What
higher lure could there be?
By now it was truly frightening him that yet again The
Post/man had been proven correct, yet again. The Post/man had
summed up this entire Postmescic mind God business as-is, with
the single, simple word SALESMAN, The Post/man used to write in
brackets after his MY SELF-HANGED MAN, POSTMAN-STAGE-NAME. For a
salesman was what Robinson would have to now become, if he was
ever to sell the Roger Madican James file-R.I.P./unedit
blueprint black project to anyone else. Sell the facts, but only
on the terms the buyer felt he or she could understand, in
regard to his or her own/ed long-held delusional beliefs, and
too simple and limited World/life experiences, based on his or
her own/ed past and culture. Simultaneously, he would always
have to give rotten-RO-heart-people ENOUGH SYMBOLIC ROPE TO HANG
HIS OR HER SELF WITH SPIRITUALLY, AND HANG HIS OR HER TRUE
ROTTEN-RO-HEART IDENTITIES WITH, for if that was who he or she
really were, then that needed to be exposed as soon as was
humanly possible. Equally, a SALESMAN/ACTOR, because Robinson
would have to sell his ideas and plots to evil people, who would
wish to put a stop to him if he told them the actual truth?
By now, despite all the mindless abuse from neighbors and
Jorgen and Lisa, Robinson had already managed to work out much
of his plan for the future, and clearly define…
ACTION; STEP-ONE FOR; FILE–R.I.P./UNEDIT BLUEPRINT FOR
BLACK PROJECT.
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
202
PART 6
(OF 7-PARTS)
Where had his mere perception of his long time companion,
best friend and his wife Lisa gone? Was what George Ira was
wondering as he failed to activate his tape recorder.
Robinson had bought the most advanced entertainment system
four-in-one as part of his research. He had no interest in the
UE-hate/revenge-inspired
mental
vomit
labeled
the
music,
television shows and news broadcasts and such as way of
entertainment. He simply wished to study and examine as much of
the type of information flooding the present incarnation of ROCulture as was humanly possible for him. For this sole reason,
research, he’d bought the most expensive and modern four-in-one
television, radio, record player and tape recorder home
entertainment system that came in one package.
When he wasn’t working he often put on Walt Disney story
and sing song tapes to self-entertain his son little Richard. He
said to Lisa, this is how you switch between the television, the
radio, the record player and the radio.
One day he put a Walt Disney tape on for little Richard. As
this was the latest and most advanced technology of the day, the
tape recorder could be turned into a loop so the tape would
continuously play over and over again. Robinson then went for a
nap. When he woke up, he headed downstairs only to discover
rather than simply turn off the tape recorder by pressing a
single button, or if the aim was to stop the tape playing, then
simply plug out the four-in-one system, Lisa Robinson had pulled
out every wire and lead joining each piece of the four-in-one
system, in her bid to stop the tape-recorder from playing the
same tape over and over again for little Richard, and in her bid
to switch over from the tape recorder mode to television mode.
IT looked like a mess some angry demon had made. Robinson felt
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
203
angry but said nothing. He reinserted the wires and leads and
went to work in his head office.
Finally a time came when Robinson wished to study the
information contained on some new tapes. He had about half an
hour to do some quick work before he drove Lisa to the theatre.
The son of a friend of Lisa was in the play Julius Caesar Lisa
was going to see. Robinson tried to set his entertainment system
going. It would not work. He checked all the wires and leads and
the plug and various different connections. Still the whole
system was shut down and would not function.
Lisa came into the room.
‘Are you insane?’ Robinson said to Lisa. ‘What are you
doing? I know as this is the most modern entertainment system
the manufactures tried to design it to look like some high-tech
gadget from the distant future, so there is no button marked
stop. But all you had to do was push the button with the green
light to turn off the tape recorder. The light goes out, you
know it is off. Then slide this-button three clicks sideways to
the sign for Television. I showed you how simple it was and you
simply refused to listen and learn a most simple new fact.
Instead you marched on bullheaded, refusing to listen or learn
the most simple of things, self-deconstructing all rational
thought… And then instead of waking me from my nap to show you
again the simple way to turn off the tape recorder and to switch
over to the television you wanted to watch… You started pulling
out every wire and connection, like some mindless act of
vandalism and destruction… Now the system is damaged or broken
in some way… Look, this is now easy it is… So you’ll know-how
the next time…’
In a self-defensive rage Lisa stormed off in a huff. ‘I’m
not interested,’ she snapped.
‘I just want you to know… why not watch me now… It’s so
simple… There is to be a next time you know… Why keep putting
off learning to do such a simple thing… It will only take a few
seconds to learn… how many minutes did you spend tearing out
wires and leads and connections after wires and leads and
connections simply trying to get it to work through mindless
vandalism…’
She refused to listen to him.
‘All right I’ll drive you to the theatre then.’
‘You can drive me to the bus stop. The bus will leave me
off right outside the theatre.’
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
204
‘It’s lashing rain and a icy cold wind is blowing… I can
drive you to the front door of the theatre and you can get a bus
home. Why stand around in the rain and the cold waiting for a
bus, and then sitting on some old dirty bus seat, when you can
be driven in comfort and warmth to the theatre. What did I spend
a small fortune on a big luxurious car for anyway?’
Lisa insisted on been driven to the bus stop. As the car
approached the bus stop, the bus was just leaving.
‘Why stand out in the cold and the rain waiting for the
next bus… At the very least, another bus will not arrive for
fifteen minutes… And that is if the bus is on time, which it
never is.’
Lisa refused to take a lift in the fine vehicle. With her
eyes glinting darkly, and acting like some great martyr out to
suffer her lot, she went to the bus stop and endured the cold
and the rain and waited for the bus to arrive. She seemed to
think she had to mindlessly endure some self-created suffering,
and
simply
continue
marching
mindlessly
along
through
World/life, refusing to learn anything new, no matter how
simple, and even if the result was mindless destruction of some
new and expensive property, she would refuse to change her
bullheaded ways and learn how to improve so World/life would go
so much easier on her.
That night little Richard asked for his favorite tapes to
be played. Given Robinson was concerned with the larger
collective picture of humanity and working out long-term overall
World/life solutions that worked for all, he hadn’t the
World/life time to be concerned with minor details, such as his
son having his developing thought-patterns and imagination
screwed
up,
and
his
son
developing
personal
positive
associations with evil due to Walt Disney tapes. As such
Robinson tried to work out what was wrong, so he could play the
tapes. Robinson couldn’t work out what was wrong. Little Richard
was very disappointed and upset.
Lisa then started off saying… ‘Did you try this, did you
try that… What about this?’
Was Lisa mocking him or something, or was her mind simply
gone to shit? She knew so little about how the system worked,
she’d torn out all the wires and leads to the point she had
broken or damaged the system in someway, and now she was giving
him advice about what might work in regard to how to fix the
damage she had so unnecessarily caused?
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
205
Robinson went next door and asked the electrician there to
come in and have a look. The electrician said all the wires and
leads and connections were correctly slotted, but for some
unknown reason, so much force had been used to tear out some of
the wires and leads and connections, the sensitive receiving
slots of the delicate instrument had become damaged. The next
day new receiving slots were put on and the system was working
again. Little Richard though had, had to be bored and frustrated
for the whole night because he’d been unable to play his
favorite tapes. Presently, whenever the story developed plot
points such as magicians or witches or people trying to kill, or
going out to kill others, little Richard was horrified and often
hid his face in his hands. Robinson wondered though what would
little Richard think by the World/life time he was older due to
such products as the Walt Disney Tapes? Would little Richard
think the witch and the black magician was cool, due to she or
he possessing personal power? Would little Richard grow to be a
teen who would fantasize about having black arts magic powers,
or saying the witch was cool, not frightful, due to the UE in
little Richard, his little standard piece of the real
Postmescic-Satan’s dream factory, rewarding him with sensations
of power when he played the black arts magician master or witch
so he would continue to self-corrupt with evil his conscious
thinking processes in the name of self-entertainment? IT was a
sick beginning, this self-training of little Richard, but
society was flooded with such evil-purpose-serving information.
While Robinson was concerned with saving every kid, not just his
very own/ed son alone, so he let the sore-point pass because it
was pointless to try to do anything just in little Richard’s
case so alone, when Robinson’s business concerned all of
humanity itself.
Worse, Lisa also seemed to start to get near sexual
pleasure out of upsetting her own/ed son little Richard. This
took the form of the latest type of statements Lisa would start
to say as if a joke, but really it was reflective of an actual
reality. ‘One day you might just wake up to find I have run far,
far away little Richard… Run away all by myself…’
Little Richard would get genuinely upset and frustrated.
‘No you won’t!’ he’d say in actual anger, close to tears. ‘You
won’t leave me behind. You’d never leave me. I know you won’t.
You’re just joking… You’d take me with you…’
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
206
Lisa would look at little Richard with a dark smug glint in
her eyes and not conform or deny what little Richard had said as
the truth or the fiction. Yet this type of upsetting comment was
Lisa’s so-called favorite type of joke she told little Richard.
Robinson saw nothing funny about this so-called joke. He just
saw little Richard getting so upset and full of self-doubt, to
the point little Richard would have to shout out that his mother
would not run away and leave him abandoned, in order for little
Richard to self-comfort the self, which was in fact the job Lisa
as his mother was meant to do. But Lisa never said she was only
joking, or hugged little Richard and said of course she’d never
abandon him. She just said how she might one day run off from
her troubled marriage she was fed up of, and then she stood back
and watched how upset little Richard got. IT was as Lisa enjoyed
torturing little Richard in a way society would not condemn.
Robinson had been acting out of character for a long
World/life time before he had gone to see the so-called
psychiatrist Jorgen. But ever since Lisa had, had phone
conversations with Jorgen, IT was as if Lisa had gone nuts. Yet
Lisa did not have any traumatic upbringing like Roger Madican
James had, had to explain her present World/life behavior. True,
she’d had an unhappy childhood, but mostly it had been about
tension and dread. Lisa’s father was a drunk. He’d work hard all
week and then get drunk. Sometimes he’d miss work and then to
make up for the missing day, he’d work like a demon possessed,
much harder than any other employee, in order to ensure he could
get away with missing days every now and again due to his
drinking. Robinson had once been Lisa’s best friend. The couple
used to talk about everything. So Robinson knew the very worst
type of things that Lisa had undergone in her World/life.
When Lisa had been a young child, she had been a firsthand
eyewitness to when her drunken father had tried to strangle
Lisa’s mother with a telephone wire. After the incident, when
the father was drunk, the mother used to lock herself into a
room for this reason; she feared what her drunken husband might
do. After this most particular World/life incident, the only
abuse used to involve the drunken father standing outside a
locked door shouting abuse at a locked door. This resulted in a
tense household. Lisa used to be filled with dread whenever she
came home and saw her father’s car parked outside and she would
wonder if he was in the house, drunk. For this reason Lisa tried
to avoid going home as much as was possible. She used to spend
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
207
most of her time playing over at her friend’s house. Though the
father was all nice and apologetic when sober, and probably used
to lie when he claimed the drink caused him to black out so he
never remembered any of the shouting he did when drunk, Lisa had
also had problems with her sober father. It was not that the
father did anything. It was the suspicious way he looked at her.
The end result was when Lisa went to the bathroom to go to the
toilet or to have a bath or a shower she would hang a towel from
the door handle, for she always felt watched, and actually
feared her father might be outside trying to peer through the
keyhole. Though there was no evidence to prove this, one
incident did occur that suggested there was something depraved
about the father.
Lisa’s brothers all dated girls. Nothing was ever said
about this. Yet when Lisa, as a young woman of nineteen, her
own/ed woman, dated a man, the happy couple had stayed out
walking around and talking past midnight. The father, not drunk,
but sober, went out in his car looking for the couple. When he
came across the couple, he violently dragged Lisa into his car,
slapped her across the face and called her a dirty whore. Lisa
returned home in tears and ran up to her bedroom and locked the
door. She had never been so humiliated. While the bum father
came into the house looking all hot and bothered, if not all
sexually charged up with his eyes glinting darkly in a
suspicious way anything could be read into, and in a way that
made Lisa feel so cheap and dirty. Who could say what the cheap
bum had been thinking of and what his true motivations had been?
All Robinson knew was that he hated the man for doing such a
thing. Who in hell did that man think he was!
This then was the very worst World/life-experiences Lisa
had gone through. Now Robinson had to wonder if Robinson was out
of touch with reality and was himself actually insane? He had
married Lisa because he had imagined he had loved who she was as
a person. He had imagined she had the perfect personality, and
looked physically lovely too. Robinson had not cared about any
Religious ceremony, even though there had been one. Robinson had
wanted a legal binding contact the Government would recognize,
so if anything happened to him, Lisa would not have any problems
in regard to taxes or legal problems or money or inheritance if
she was just his common law wife. He’d wanted all that was his
to be Lisa’s. He had always wanted to let Lisa and the whole
World/life know he didn’t want other women. He wanted to make a
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
208
commitment to Lisa. He had imagined Lisa to be his very best
friend he could entrust the rest of his World/life to. He had
imagined he and she would support each other and love one
another and constantly care and nurture each other.
Now he remembered Lisa saying… IT’S THE SEX! PEOPLE GET
MARRIED BECAUSE HE AND SHE WANT TO HAVE SEX!
Robinson frowned. He had not married because of sex. Not
considering the fact that sex was required to have children, to
him protected sex was the least favorite part of marriage in
concern to intimacy. For example, if Lisa and Robinson went out
for the night and decided to walk home because he and she had
been drinking, and it was cold and damp and windy, Robinson
wasn’t thinking he couldn’t wait to get home and have sex. No.
He’d be thinking of the joy of getting in out of the cold,
getting under the warm bed covers with his best friend Lisa at
his side, to hug and cuddle and comfort, and then to wake the
next morning to find Lisa there, so there could be more hugs and
cuddles and giggles and talk and jokes and fun and games.
Now he remembered Lisa saying in regard to a husband who’d
been paralysed… HE’LL HAVE TO UNDERSTAND HIS WIFE HAS SEXUAL
NEEDS… HE SHOULD UNDERSTAND IF SHE SEES SOMEONE ELSE FOR SEX…
Yet if Lisa couldn’t have sex anymore, Robinson wouldn’t be
bothered about trying to look for sex elsewhere and then going
home to Lisa his best friend. He’d only be interested in looking
after Lisa. Yet Lisa had once said…
PEOPLE SHOULD UNDERSTAND YOU CAN FALL IN AND OUT OF LOVE
WITH PEOPLE… IT CAN GO, BUT THEN COME BACK AGAIN…
Was Lisa controlled by gut/visceral/emotion/unconscious
responses in regard to determining how she acted and thought and
felt as an independent conscious mind? Robinson had dated,
fallen in love, married and entrusted his future with Lisa,
based on conscious decisions. He had thought as a conscious mind
she was a great personality, a great companion, and a great
friend? Now he remembered Lisa saying…
A LOT OF PEOPLE MARRY OVER PRIMAL FEARS FOR THE FUTURE…
THEY WANT TO TRY AND SECURE SOME SORT OF FUTURE… IT IS NOT RIGHT
THAT WOMAN ARE DISCRIMINATED IN THE WORKPLACE…
RICH MEN SHOULD WATCH OUT… EVERYONE WOULD ONLY BE AFTER
THEM FOR THEIR MONEY… TO USE THEM FOR WHAT THEY CAN GET OUT OF
THEM…
All these World/life years had Lisa only pretended to play
the part of his best friend, because Robinson had always treated
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
209
her like royalty? He’d always been-loving and caring, he’d
always shared, and he’d always tried to do his best for Lisa?
Had Lisa then only been good to him, because he had been good to
her, she treating Robinson just like he treated her, and the
rest had been some fictional identity Robinson’s mind had
dreamed up based on the goodness in himself he’d merely
protected onto Lisa in which no such true goodness existed?
Was Robinson insane? Had it all been an illusion, Robinson
simply protecting the good in the self onto Lisa, and Lisa
responding and merely playing some role because she was
receiving positive emotions? Why anyway had Robinson taken Roger
Madican James in for the summer months of 1959 and then packed
him off to RO? Had Roger seen through Robinson? Had Robinson
been an actor, a great pretender, playing games of trying to
appear to be good, rather than actually been good? Had Roger
understood both Robinson and Lisa had secretly feared due to the
traumas Roger had gone through, Roger was like a crack in both
Robinson and Lisa’s perception of reality, through which evil
and insane forces might one day escape through until all good
was consumed?
Yet this had in fact become the actual reality. Not only
had Roger become an evil murderer, but as soon as Robinson had
changed character, had gone off and tried to work on the subject
of Roger Madican James, Lisa had changed out of all known
character too? And all that had been necessary for Lisa to go
insane and work to destroy her husband, for the unconscious
insanity to be self-resurrected into her conscious mind to then
control her insane actions and words in waking reality, was for
Lisa to have phone conversations with the doctor Jorgen?
Was this the truth? Lisa had decided to marry Robinson,
because society said woman could not have sex outside of
marriage, if they wished to be respected. Also Lisa had, had
primal fears for the future and she had wanted a breadwinner
with a secure job because women were discriminated against in
the workplace and promotion was slow, if there was promotion at
all, and pay was always lower for woman than for men doing the
exact same job? Is that all Robinson was to her, a concept of a
good
husband,
she
turned
against
as
soon
as
her
emotional/unconscious World/life compelled her to turn against
him, who she now perceived as another bum like her father was?
Was Robinson as equally culpable, for going through World/life
making the decision to keep his blinders on? Had the
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
210
relationship been real at all, or just some fantasy his selfcontained mind had concocted in reaction to external stimuli
that superficially only appeared to self-justify the fantasy as
being real, but in reality, all this time, beneath the surface,
the actual reality had been some repressed nightmare just
waiting to surface as soon as World/life events/circumstances
appeared to self-justify IT?
Was this the real reason for the nightmare Lisa had come to
be trapped within? Her UE-constantly reenacted the essential
ethos and spirit of the bad memories she had of her bum father
and how society discriminated against women, she then protected
onto Robinson-somehow then seen as the great enemy that embodied
all the reasons she had what she had someone come to believe to
be some failed life story?
Once Robinson used to feel upset when Lisa was upset, or if
Lisa said something like…
YES! WE ARE ALL VERY VULNERABLE PEOPLE BEHIND IT ALL!
He’d think of Lisa been upset by her worthless bum of a
father. Robinson would feel bad and wish to make her feel
better. He’d treat her like a delicate flower given he’d
reckoned she was a sensitive and caring person.
No longer could he believe this about Lisa. In truth she
was like a savage, sensitive in no way, shape or form, causing
hurt and negative feelings to occur in everyone. She seemed to
be out to destroy the self, Robinson, and to upset and disturb
her only son, to ruin the life of her son just as her life had
been ruined? And for what did she do all of this, for, because
some doctor, some authority figure, had given her the subliminal
signal to go insane and through attacking and demeaning and
trying to destroy her husband in every socially acceptable way
possible, destroy herself, and even ruin her once loving
relationship with her very own/ed son?
Was the woman in fact evil, or so controlled by evil she
could only do evil, and yet could self-justify serving evil
because the UE could hide behind her conscious mind while
prompting her to do IT’s bidding? What was so terrible about
Robinson and his work to self-justify such savagery? You’d think
IT was Robinson who had killed someone rather than Roger Madican
James, Robinson was trying to work out how to help in his own/ed
so little way?
He remembered been mocked by evil how wife would turn
against husband, parent against child if he continued to work on
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
211
this area… how all illusions would be stripped bare rite before
his very own/ed disbelieving eyes… and all over what constituted
some insanity no one could even define as conscious minds, only
feel the evil drive at a gut/emotional/visceral level to do
evil, and then to actually make the conscious decision to do
that evil for no rational conscious reason?
Again, Robinson’s mind was full of the image of how he had
come upon his entertainment system, all the wires and leads and
connections ripped out, and the whole thing looking in such a
disheveled mess, IT was as if some hate-filled demon had decided
in a state of mindless rage to attack and vandalize IT?
It was not long before the self-set evil pattern at work in
Lisa grew even stronger. As soon as she woke in the morning the
hate filled comments began, not just in regard to Robinson, but
also even in regard to what a messy house it was, or because a
light had been left on, or because Robinson had spent money on
something he really needed for his work. The truth was Robinson
lived only on the basics. Though he was on the exact same
salary, these days he spent less money than he used too in the
past prior August 1964. He was basically too busy working to be
spending money on anything but his basic needs. Yet Lisa seemed
to wish to take even more money out of his hands, to ensure he
got even less and then even less and less. It was as if she
wished him totally deconstructed. He’d spend less. Lisa would
shut up for a time. He’d have done as asked. But no, not much
time would have passed before there was another demand, some
other necessity or comfort she wished to take away from him, as
if even when stripped of so much, she just couldn’t stop the
desire to wish to strip him of something else. The excuse used
was that he was in danger of losing his job as Sheriff. IT
didn’t matter that he’d told Lisa he was going on to a better
career where he would earn at least twice as much. If he said
this, a true fact, she’d look at him as if he was some mentally
ill bum talking crap, and then try to use the excuse he was
headed for unemployment to try and strip him of something else.
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
212
PART 7
(OF 7-PARTS)
January-1965 in a United Trust International Bank branch in
Richmond, he had to self-produce identification just to withdraw
his own/ed money. His signature did not match up with his old
signature the bank kept on permanent record. It appeared more
false physical evidence had been created to prove Jorgen rite
about Robinson being mentally ill.
His once unique signature had significantly changed in the
period of a mere few months. He presumed this was due to what
could be defined by one of The Post/man’s rules. By the very
structure of its nature, UE had to automatically communicate
negative
information,
in
reaction
to
World/lifeevent/circumstances a conscious-human experienced. This also
included the UE having to communicate negative information in
reaction to Robinson’s personal World/life experiences of
dealing with the Reason/Roger/Postmescic. Given his UE was this
time finally communicating information, in reaction to the
actual truth of evil, the information his UE was communicating
was finally the actual truth.
Up until now, conscious-humans had merely reacted to how
other conscious-humans were reacting to his or her own/ed UE in
blind conscious ignorance, and with no understanding of UE.
Everything then, had become a rite conscious-self-deconstructing
mess of confusion, devoid of any real separation between
consciousness and UE, and where UE’s effect on consciousness
ended, and consciousness took over. What served to add to the
great personal confusion was that UE was anti-consciousness. As
such, if a person insisted on relentlessly working on the
subject of evil, then great internal conflict was induced, and
as such frustration and stress. This meant conscious-Robinson
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
213
had to type out reams of data and meaningless padding, just to
get back to a core Killian Schull essay homework truth, or to
defining one of UE’s machine-like patterns being repeated,
because conscious-Robinson’s reaction to evil was to have his
conscious
thoughts
rebel
and
spiral
off
in
meaningless
directions. As such he started to think up a whole bunch of
garbage logic self-designed to mislead from the real essential
core truth/issue, just as much as Robinson’s own/ed thought
patterns were being mislead.
Equally, he had to document all ideas/fashions/the rage of
the day circling this present society. He had to self-learn how
to break such so-called fashionable ideas down, so he could
instantly explain how they all related back to the Killian
Schull watch mechanics and definitions. As such he had to learn
how conscious-Roger had actually ended up as the Postmescicmind-God, and as such learn how to invent conscious logic
capable of breaking any DCC-made-with-UE that formed in Roger
when next the two humans met. If anything, for a start, just to
stop Postmescic-Roger from turning upon him and killing him
stone dead.
Equally, there was the reactionary thinking law. His UE
communicated back to his conscious mind, information in his
environment that was an apparent explanation for what he was
experiencing and feeling internally. Yet all such reactionary
thinking information in his environment was nothing but a pack
of
UE-hate/revenge-inspired/backed
conscious-selfdeconstructing,
faulty
logic,
misleading
definitions,
and
nightmarishly paradoxical lies, UE-human pawns felt the need to
constantly vent in order to keep up the unconscious UE
conspiracy to keep humans wallowing around in ignorance of the
real UE-agenda. Most human beings did not come out and say he
and she were evil out to do evil. No. Most human beings were
full of the UE-inspired hate/revenge-drive and so tried to work
out ways to pretend when he and she vented abuse, it was in fact
logic. As such society was full of such logic/fashion
statements, that really went back to the UE-hate/revenge drive
to destroy all, only the conscious mind tried to self-camouflage
the real evil intent behind giving a so called opinion/creating
so called new ideas/logic/art/entertainment. It was Robinson’s
job then to take this nonsense seriously, to in a sense take on
all the lies of the World/life itself, and try to dismantle the
conscious-misleading logic back to the real evil spiritual laws
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
214
that governed it due to a UE of a standard design and purpose in
each and every unconscious human mind, and as such work out a
way to dismantle the DCC-made-with-UE such logic caused to occur
in people.
It had not been for nothing The Post/man had written that
despite the misleading lies and faulty nightmarishly paradoxical
logic invented by RO-Culture, The Post/man believed every single
trait and characteristic of evil had been designed for a pacific
and intended reason, that should aid humans to know rite from
wrong, and what a pure God wished humans to do in the name of
good, and why evil was always really only evil, and good was
always really only good.
The problem now for Robinson was that society was filled
with so much miss-information, not representing truth a healthy
person could build upon in a healthy and beneficial way, but
miss-information designed to allow UE to destroy conscious life.
The truth was he had yet to discover anything on this
subject that did not conform to the rules defined in Roger’s
Killian Schull essay homework. Since August-9TH–1964, on the
radio or on television, or in the theatre or cinema, or in books
or magazines, or when dealing with people, he had not come upon
one single comment or statement or idea, made by anyone, that
was anything but mindless UE-inspired lies, and UE-inspired
judgmental thinking and conscious decoding nonsense of no worth.
IT all basically went back to the desire to punish or destroy or
belittle or corrupt others and to satisfy the UE-hate/revenge
drive to make conscious humanity the enemy instead of the UE
meant to allow humanity know rite from wrong and to self-punish
humanity until humanity succeeded. Yet, even so, and despite the
best efforts of people like Jorgen, Robinson could still near
instantly tell the difference between UE risen thoughts, and
consciousness and IG and the soul.
But there in lay the problem. The human-World/life was so
full of misleading lies, and faulty nightmarishly paradoxical
logic, and garbage definitions, that apparently explained what
people were experiencing… but which were all designed to form
DCC-made-with-UE in humans… UE had risen such a storm of
thoughts
into
his
conscious
mind,
a
body-of-UE-purposesanctioned-raised-information/mental vomit if you will, his
reasons to hate and despair, and to give into evil-inspired
judgmental thinking and to tie-his conscious thinking up into
conscious-self-deconstructing knots… that he felt driven to
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
215
document such faulty logic, in order to then make conscious
sense out of it, so he could try as intended for all good
conscious-minds to resolve all of this nonsense in the shortest
time period possible. For each conscious-life-force-spirit only
had one mortal-World/life-time to evolve spiritually within, or
completely deconstruct. Yet this was in fact his job. He had to
be able to understand each and every insane state of mind Roger
got into, in reaction to the so many evils Roger was subjected
too, only Robinson also then had to know how to reverse back out
of such an evil state of mind, into a pure mind, to safely
resolve the damage.
As such, he was losing touch with his true conscious-self.
He had so much meaningless and reactionary thinking data to work
through that he often felt so frustrated when he was not at his
typewriter, that he did not take the time and care to sign his
own/ed name as he once had prior August-9TH–1964.
At least this was how he privately explained why his
signature no longer matched up with the signature kept on bank
record. When the internal pressure became beyond belief he
always reminded himself…
GOOD SPIRITUAL EVOLUTION WAS THE NATION OF THE PURE GODS
INTENTION FOR HUMANITY… AND UE THE MEANS TO PROVE TO HUMANITY
RITE FROM WRONG ON THAT ROAD TOWARDS ACHIEVING SPIRITUAL
PERFECTION… WHERE AS LONG AS THE UE-EVIL-PURPOSE WAS SERVED,
HUMANITY WOULD BE SELF-PUNISHED, SELF-CORRUPTED, SELF-DESTROYED!
AS SUCH, IF A GOOD-CONSCIOUS MIND PUSHES HARD ENOUGH, AND
WISHES DESPERATELY ENOUGH, AND HIS MOTIVES ARE ALWAYS PURE AND
TRUE, AND HE NEVER BACKS DOWN BY BECOMING SELF-CORRUPT… THE
CONSCIOUS HUMAN SHOULD BE EVENTUALLY ALLOWED TO UNDERSTAND ALL
EVIL, FOR WHAT EVIL TRULY IS-FOR THIS WAS MEANT TO BE!
The United Trust bank clerk asked if Robinson wanted to try
to sign his name a second time, rather than produce two pieces
of self-identification so he could then create a new signature
for the bank to keep on permanent record. Robinson tried to take
the time and care to sign his old signature. Still he could not
reproduce it. Despite his desire not to, he was changing in ways
he had not counted on. He doubted it had anything to do with the
fact that he always typed these days. As such he was not used to
writing with a pen. In a sense then he had become lazy and
sloppy when it came to the act of writing with a pen.
He looked down at the fat, black pen so uncomfortable and
unfamiliar in his fingers. Robinson’s-conscious mind was so
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
216
weekend by constantly dealing with trying to work out evil
thought patterns, and how to figure out how to relate those UEdirected thought patterns to mass World/life social patterns and
individuals… and end of the line wars and man-made famines and
crime and mental illness… and trying to create the conscious
logic that defeated the evil logic… that he could not now bring
himself to return to his old stable conscious self even if he
tried. He was losing control.
Apparently, yet again, the old RO-Culture law was taking
effect. False evidence had been apparently self-created, so
Jorgen could declare with joy and glee, this was more physical
evidence Robinson was mentally ill, his personality was in a
state of decay, he was been taken over by another identity, he
was schizophrenic, and so his work should be forcefully stopped
for his own/ed good.
None of this though changed the fact that to now take the
time to use a pen to document his own/ed human name his parents
had given him at birth as a human baby, simply caused so much
self-frustration he could not get his hand to write his old
signature. It was the signature of a man, who in essence, no
longer existed. And rightfully never had existed, since his
birth into a human body with unconscious intellects, that due to
the misleading lies, garbage definitions and faulty and
nightmarishly paradoxical logic of the human World/life,
conspired to mislead him from forming a mature connection with
his conscious soul PP:FCIC-made-with-IG-style… that represented
the real George Ira Robinson as a pure Inora-mind-God saw him…
and wished for him to always be PP:FCIC-made-with-IG-style.
In short, the RO-Culture self-destruct patterns were been
repeated on him to. Just like the true-World/life horror story
had been with Roger Madican James, Robinson was been stopped
from forming what Roger Madican James would have defined as a
PP:FCIC-made-with-IG. He wasn’t being warped out of his own/ed
true conscious self by the lies of the Postmescic-mind-God made
World/life. He was simply been further warped out of the shape
of his true conscious self. And the warping had begun from the
day of his very birth in a human World/life filled with evilpurpose-serving misinformation constantly then bombarding him
from all sides, until he simply had to then, think in error.
The proof of this was that during so called new World/life
experiences, on a subject as old as the universe, he often came
into contact with conscious-logic and conscious-understandings
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
217
he’d once never known he’d had. These were entirely new news
conscious understandings and logic the human World/life had
never even heard of before, and as such all he ever got in
response was abuse due to the UE-hate/revenge drive kicking in,
in such people. Yet they were interned within the consciouslife-force-spirit he had been born as. This meant a human brain
had to serve in some major way, to repress a conscious-mind from
accessing complete self-awareness, and tapping into the truepotential of one’s true conscious-self, and the unconscious
resources, such as IG, UE and the soul. In short, the human
brain compartmented, and kept completely separate, UE and IG and
the soul, and various other potential untapped resources, from
the conscious life force spirit.
By now, he was driving his good conscious-self towards
trying to make sense out of the chaos and madness of only
universal Postmescic mind God hell itself. He was only reacting
as would be expected. Nothing more. He had to, didn’t he,
understand how the Postmescic mind God had taken over consciousRoger, well enough, to symbolically knock the Postmescic mind
God off of Roger’s back like the rider from the bucking
stallion? Was he then, on the rite path?
He felt sure that he was?
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
218
8
(IN 5-PARTS)
PART 1
(OF 5-PARTS)
August Ira Robinson was born May-8TH-1965. The overlong
pregnancy seemed to be in direct contrast to the tiny baby
delivered. Her heart was half the natural size of a healthy
baby’s heart. Given Robinson’s prediction his daughter would be
born with a physically damaged heart, had turned out to be a
seemingly irreversible prophecy, IT was with a new confused hate
that mother Ira regarded father Robinson. Lisa didn’t change.
Maybe deep down she knew she was the damned, or due to, too many
negative World/life experiences such as her father hurting her,
she’d allowed UE to self-convince her conscious mind of the
evil-judgment she too was evil? Medical experts told the
Robinson family not to expect August to live more than four or
five World/life years. Her growing body would put too much
strain on her little heart.
AUGUST
I WILL BREAK HER HEART, JUST LIKE YOU ONCE BROKE
MINE! AND SHE’LL BE LONG DEAD AND GONE FROM THIS IT’S PLAYTHING
EARTH BEFORE YOU!
ADOPTED SPIRITUAL DREAM FATHER… HEY?
Robinson more greatly feared The Post/man, who had in his
letters referred to the Exudus as…
THE NATION OF THE PURE GODS’ UE-SPIRITUAL DREAMING DEATHWEAVER AND MORTAL-BODY-FORMS PROTOTYPE CREATER, SO HUMANITY
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
219
MIGHT KNOW THE TRUE ROAD TO SPIRITUAL PERFECTION. BOTH SPIRITUAL
AND ACTUAL MORTAL DEATH AS LONG AS THE REAL TRUTH IS NOT WORKED
OUT!
Robinson always feared for Lisa’s spiritual future. He
decided conscious-denial on this particular subject matter was
best. He simply decided to accept he was the cause of her rage.
He decided he should not look back at a woman gone beyond hope
of redemption. He simply had too many other pressing concerns
and bigger World/life responsibilities. He was of the opinion
that unlike Roger Madican James, Lisa didn’t want help to change
her evil-purpose-serving ways. Anyway, who said he was rite even
in regard to this much about Lisa? Who was he to self-judge?
Better just deny and get on with IT-all? He simply must not
allow Lisa to mislead him from his real World/life purpose?
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
220
PART 2
(OF 5-PARTS)
Doctor Fairchild was the local Silver Springs doctor who
had taken over after Richard Robinson had self-fulfilled his
contract with the town and had left for Richmond. Doctor
Fairchild was also the doctor who used to do an hour a day
community service up at even still operational RO-woe. Prior to
leaving
for
Washington,
Robinson
drove
over
to
doctor
Fairchild’s head office. He wished to collect what he had asked
Fairchild to have ready for him.
Robinson was handed a large, thick and padded white
envelope. On the envelope face, two red lines crossed over each
other. They shaped what could be described as a very tin burning
ku-klux Klan cross. He was also handed a slim booklet. It was
labeled…
CANCER CHEMOTHERAPY
He had not asked for it. ‘I’ve no interest.’ Facts were IT
had prophesized that as long as he worked for good, he’d get to
live.
‘So what did you ask me for that for?’ Fairchild asked
quietly. He did not look at the envelope Robinson clutched in
his big sweaty hands-none-the-less beginning to get so bony.
THIS IS YOUR PERMANENT-RO-RECORD ALL/RITE, MIGHTY ROBINSON!
‘I’m a bluffer going to a card game. This is to be my spare
jack up my sleeve!’ He had said JACK, rather than perhaps the
expected ACE, because lately he was having a lot of very
disturbing dreams concerning Robinson playing cards. He was
always turning over a JACK that allowed him to win the card
game.
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
221
PART 3
(OF 5-PARTS)
In Washington, Robinson had a well-required night’s rest in
his May/flower hotel room. Finally, he felt ready to face what
he now knew he just had to do.
He was shown into the impressive office on the second floor
of the chalk white federal building. Wearing a hand-stitched
navy suit that matched the color of the new carpet, Michael
Riordan sat in a comfortable black leather chair behind a wide
desk. He appeared the picture of conscious sanity. His oak
cabinets and elegant furnishings surrounded him. The office
walls had wood paneling.
The first thing the disgusted Robinson directed his
attention to, was the American flag. It was hung from a flagpole
erected to the left of Michael’s desk. Cocooned in this
glasshouse, the flag had no wind to fly it. The flag was
positioned before a giant FBI crest. It had the words Federal
Bureau Of Investigation printed in bold letters around half the
crest circumference. The crest had been erected on the rear
wall. When Michael sat at his desk the FBI crest surrounded
Michael like a planet, rather than a halo.
Robinson remembered how Dorothy Philpot had stood outside
the Main-RO-Doors containing the State seal the 1959 night
Robinson had brought Roger Madican James and Charles Edward
Damien for their first ever night in RO.
Michael’s desk supported a photograph of the FBI Director.
It was housed in an immaculate wood and glass frame. Centered on
the very front of the desk, for all visitors to read was a
shining
gold
nameplate.
This
nameplate
reported
Michael
Riordan’s title in black letters…
MICHAEL RIORDAN
AGENT SUPERVISOR
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
222
Both quietly and smugly, Michael watched Robinson. Michael
had been given a week’s advance notice Robinson intended to show
up here in person.
‘You don’t look good Robinson? The pointless stress you
have put yourself under, make you stop eating? You must have
lost a good two, three stone? Finally come to see things from my
perspective? Just as I knew you eventually would have to, no
matter how hard your internal fight?’ They were asked as
questions, although in Michael’s mind, for some unknowable
reason, as if he believed he was as good as an authentic
fortuneteller, tarot card reader and psychic, they were already
hard and irreversible facts of existence. ‘And this fileR.I.P/unedit you sent me?’ Michael gestured towards the wood box
on the floor as if a pile of garbage. It was full of reams of
typed pages, at least a thousand.
‘Is just your way of proving how we never stood a chance of
victory from day one? You argument then, for why you must stop
all of this… internal fight-there is no point to?’
Last October Robinson had saved six blackened boxes from
the flaming hall of permanent-RO-records. He had brought only
one of these boxes with him here today. He had placed the padded
envelope doctor Blauner had given him on top of this box. He now
placed this box upon the office floor. With a crippled leg, it
had been a bitch having to cart such a weight all the way up
here from his distant parking spot. Michael had his own/ed
reserved-parking spot much closer to his office.
‘By the way Patrick Watkins gave me a call… Just to inform
me Dobbin stole all the physical evidence,’ Michael finished.
Robinson shook his head. ‘You sound almost happy about
that?’ Feeling an urge to leave, Robinson glanced at his carkeys. He’d left them on top of the envelope placed on top of the
RO-box. ‘Roger was rite, wasn’t he? In everything he ever said,
and Postmescic-mind-God knows in everything he every thought
about anyone… Even when he lied, he told the truth… No matter
how dark, because that’s all I’ve been finding again and again
since August 1964… Evidence!’
‘What
evidence?’
Michael
sneered.
‘The
irreversible
spiritual evidence in your OWN/ED DAMNED BODY-OF-UE-MIND-that as
the sum of all evil spiritual laws can be considered the God’s
knowledge of all irreversible evil spiritual laws? And how about
this so called new phraseology you’ve been coining… How did you
put it again, this new label for your new rule…
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
223
‘SELF-CRITICAL-MIND,
CENTERED/THE
ROTTEN-RO-HEART/SELFHANGED ACTOR MAN’S–FICTIONS-WORLD/LIFE-ARENA/STAGE-NAME!
‘LET YOUR CONSICOUS-MIND BE CENTER A MIND’S STAGE! LET ALL
THE PLAYERS AND ACTORS WHO SURROUND YOU, AND EVEN THE AUDIENCE
IN THE THEATRE, BE YOUR CONSTANT UE-HATE/REVENGE-DRIVEN DEMONIC
JOKER/POSTMESCIC
HELL’S
OWN/ED
STEREOTYPE
JEERING-CRITICS,
REPRESENTING EVERY KNOWN RO-CULTURE MORTAL-AGE AND EVIL-LIE…
CONSTANTLY CRITICISING EVERY PURE CONSCIOUS THOUGHT THAT EVER
ENTERS YOUR MIND… CONSTANTLY ATTACKING EVERYTHING YOU THINK IN
THE NAME OF REPRESENTING CONSCIOUS-LIFE-FORCE-SPIRIT GOOD!
‘AND ONLY COME YOU-THINKING THE-ACTUAL TRUTH THAT ANSWERS,
AND IN THE ANSWERING, DISMANTLES EVERY UE-INSPIRED HATE/REVENGEBACKED LIE AND PIECE OF FAULTY LOGIC/MENTAL VOMIT OF EVERY
FAILED EVIL HUMAN AGE… THAT AS SUCH CAUSES DCC-MADE-WITH-UE TO
FORM IN ALL WITH THE AIM TO ENSURE THE UNCONSCIOUS EVIL
CONSPIRACY CONTINUES TO MAINTAIN THE RO-CULTURE STATUS QUO, DCCMADE-WITH-UE-MAKING AND CONSTANTLY REINFORCING IN ALL… SO ONLY
THE FAILED AND NON-INTENDED WORLD/LIFE REMAINS AND THE FAIR AND
JUST AND INTENDED WORLD/LIFE IS STOPPED FROM COMING TO BE… DOES
THE-SELF-HANGED-ACTOR-MAN’S-TRAP-DOOR-CENTER-STAGE
DROP
OPEN
BENEATH YOUR UNSTEADY-MORTAL-WORLDLY-FEET, AND OFFER A FORM OF
CONSCIOUS DECODING RELIEF… BY TEMPORARILY FREEING YOU FROM THE
GREAT
AND
SO-VERY-NIGHTMARISHLY-PARADOXICAL-PSYCHOLOGICALPRESSURE… UNTIL THE NEXT PURE CORE-TRUTH REQUIRED, IS TO BE
CONSCIOUSLY CULTIVATED, IN ORDER TO DEFEAT THE DCC-MADE-WITH-UE
FORMING IN YOU! AND THROUGH YOU REMOVING A DCC-MADE-WITH-UE IN
YOU, YOU CAN LEARN HOW TO REMOVE ANY SUCH SIMILIAR DCC-MADEWITH-UE THAT FORMS IN CONSCIOUS-ROGER?
‘FOR NO MATTER HOW-GREAT THE INTERNAL PRESSURE, IN THE
CONSCIOUS
MIND
THERE
IS
A
PUREST-CORE,
TOO-TRUE-IGREMEMBERING/PURE-CORE-AND-TRULY-IMMORTAL-CONSCIOUS-SOUL IF YOU
WILL… TOUGHER THAN ANYTHING UE-HELL EVER MANAGED TO SELF-FORGE…
SO IT CAN NEVER FAIL TO-STEER YOU IN THE DIRECTION OF WHAT IS
RITE, EVEN WHEN YOU ARE FACED WITH SUCH EVIL, AND SUCH GREAT
WORKS OF EVIL, YOU LOSE YOUR GRASP ON, AND FULL ACCESS TO, YOUR
TRUE AND WHOLLY-GOOD SENSE OF INDEPENDENTLY THINKING CONSCIOUSSELF! SO THERE IS NO-EXCUSE!
‘THE CONSCIOUS-SOUL IS ALWAYS CAPABLE OF STEERING YOU
SAFELY THROUGH ANY SPIRITUAL ATTACK… AND TO SELF-PRODUCE THE
SECURE CONSCIOUS KNOWLEDGE THAT EXPLAINS IT-ALL AWAY-UNTIL IT
COMES BACK ANOTHER DAY IN YET ANOTHER FAILED RO-CULTURE AGE TO
SELF-HAUNT ALL IT ENCOUNTERS?
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
224
‘What is this meant to mean? I certainly don’t know? I’ve
read Roger’s Killian Schull essay homework, to, you know. I
could even use a tape-recorder to record my voice reading out
those rotten-RO-heart watch mechanics and definitions. Anytime
anyone says anything to me, I could hit the play button. I could
state that the recorded statement explains what is really going
on, and what is really motivating what he or she are saying, all
backed by nothing but a UE-inspired hate/revenge drive to upset
the intended plan for creation, and I would nearly always be
rite.
‘So what? He’s the real Postmescic-Devil! You’re most
certainly not? He really does benefit! You never will. He really
does understand! You don’t. Can’t!’
‘Did understand,’ Robinson pointed out to Michael.
‘O yes… did… because if conscious-Roger, the so-called, if
you are anyone to go by, mentally insane nutcase, conscious
crown nut job, truly did still understand he would not require
your help and greatest efforts… The great personal savior who is
to free him of the Postmescic-mind-God? Now would Roger?’
‘Give me a break Michael. You know as well as I, UE was
originally intended to let us know rite from wrong… and how to
understand enough of, in order to survive in a mortal
World/universe. The original purpose intended by the nation of
the pure Gods was for us to turn UE-inwards, towards criticizing
one’s every conscious-thought, until the pressure becomes so
great, the conscious-mind can finally use the foundational soul
pattern capable of allowing for the self-production of pure and
secure conscious reasoning… and squeeze out a pure-core-truth
logic from the soul…
‘THAT
SILENCES
ALL
PRIMAL-UE-MIND-INSPIRED-TRASH/MENTAL
VOMIT INSPIRED BY THE UE-HATE/REVENGE DRIVE… AND DEFEATS ANY
DCC-MADE-WITH-UE THAT HAS FORMED OR THAT CAN EVER FORM IN REGARD
TO THE TOO-SAME ISSUE… FOR THAT TRUTH EXPLAINS ALL, ALL AT-ONCE,
THAT NO UE-INSPIRED HATE/REVENGE-BACKED LIE, OR UE-INSPIRED
FAULTY AND CONSCIOUS-SELF-CONTRADICTORY LOGIC CAN FIND FAULT
WITHIN THE LOGIC OF!
‘So, when you work out the final truth that…
‘EXPLAINS ALL EVIL ACTIONS IN EVERY MORTAL-HUMAN AGE…
‘Then you feel suddenly released from that pressure to
mindlessly punish and destroy and to respond to the UE-inspired
hate/revenge drive… and are liberated back from RO-Culture lies
out to spiritually-destroy your conscious-self. For you have
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
225
found the conscious logic that can undo the DCC-made-with-UE. A
relief so great, it made me think of the image of a trap door
dropping beneath a ROTTEN-RO-HEART, SELF-HANGED ACTOR-MAN’S
UNSTEADY FEET AND FREEING HIM OF THE MORTAL-WORLD/LIFE.
‘Freed, because given this is a RO-Culture World/life, the
soul can only make us pure in self-preparation for the nextWorld/life, not this World/life-what with the human World/life
never intended to be by the nation of the pure Gods. Yet the ROCulture UE-human pawns refusing to change the UE-human pawn-run
DCC-made-with-UE-making and constantly reinforcing status quo,
backed up by nothing but the UE-hate/revenge drive to stop the
intended fair and just World/life from coming to be, and
everything said to stop this from happening, and to maintain the
failed RO-Culture World/life, another evil-purpose serving lie.’
‘So you like to imagine… The Post/man’s imagery again,
should have known,’ Michael grumbled. ‘So what? Roger doesn’t
care if you are immediately able to recognize the truth or not?
He’ll Reason-kill you just the same. Anyway, I feel you are
missing something important… There’s something about your work
you’re not seeing… An oversight…’
‘Yah, I know. But I’ll see IT eventually…’ Robinson did not
look defeated or embarrassed or limited or sub-human or ignorant
or full of self-doubts and fears, as Michael was out to make him
feel as part of the UE-hate/revenge-driven plot to destroy
conscious-Robinson. ‘But you’ll find no contradictions Michael,
in the file-R.I.P./unedit. I’m finally now reacting to my own/ed
UE as one was intended to react. This intention was decided upon
by no less than the nation of the pure Gods before the beginning
of universal time. I know this is just the beginning though… I
have yet to understand what else the nation of the pure Gods
intended us to use UE for, in the name of good. But you…
‘You think you can outthink the nation of the pure Gods?
Who are not the UE-constructor where UE is of a fixed and
inalterable and thus very limited design, but are what created
the Inora conscious life force spirit constructor…
‘Do not forget, even a flexible conscious life force
spirit… capable of comprehending and ruling UE as a mere
unconscious mind slave/learning aid… is only ever capable of,
through millennia, evolving back in one preset direction,
towards the nation of the pure Gods.
‘The Killian Schull watch mechanics are one thing. My
counter/made-to/measures based on Roger’s self-penned CM;1,
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
226
CM;2, CM;3 are now all set to go beyond them to another place
entirely.’ Robinson knew it was the fact that Michael knew
Robinson was rite that now caused Michael’s internal conflict to
escalate. As the DCC-made-with-UE began to break away Michael
began to come back into touch with his true sense of shame and
self-disgust over he having run out on Robinson and the R.M.J.case.
‘You know Michael,’ Robinson said. ‘I never thought a day
would come when I would be saying this to you… But you’re an
utter disgrace! I saw the Reason retreating into Roger’s fatalwounds, and self-healing his fatal wounds! Conscious experiences
that we’ve both had… And you just dismiss IT all as if IT meant
nothing, and can teach us nothing worthwhile? And the RO-Culture
World/life then should simply be allowed to continue to
mindlessly march along into mindless self-destruction as if for
time without end? Yet, you are but one of a handful of people
alive in the World/life today, with such an important frame of
reference. IT could allow you, through the use of retrospection,
to work out great and significant spiritual truths concerning
the architecture behind all of evil human history… and human
misery and self-scourge… and the next World/life beyond the
mortal grave… if only you were self-prepared to self-sacrifice
enough to suffer enough. That’s just… Good Inora-mind-God, I
don’t even know what it is, it’s so petty and low and pathetic!
It makes you less than human… less than animal it’s so low.
‘And yet you know full well in all but certainty, the
Postmescic mind God is here because of selfish and cowardly and
petty men just like you, out to serve the self, really the UEhate/revenge drive. I shouldn’t have to argue my case. IT’s
existence should argue my case for me.
‘Who asked you anyway to decide to turn a killer’s rage
into what society calls healthy ambition… To go out there
ranting and raving how everyone should hate the game and not the
player… To kick and claw and manipulate and sidestep your way to
the top, amidst everyone else kicking and clawing the way to the
top… Yet you have nothing new to offer, so why do so? Did you
really decide to kill off all love and compassion and the good
and truly worthwhile stuff of real humanity in you so you could
succeed by conscious self-deconstructing the self, void the
conscious intellect, so you could use the UE as the cunning evil
mind to allow you to know how to manipulate your way to the top
and step on everyone else on the way up, and work out how to
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
227
catch criminals… What did you expect to happen? I mean really,
clawing your way to the top, while dealing with the criminal
element, did you really make the conscious decision to allow the
UE in you to self-convince conscious-you of so many evil
judgments about the human race been worthless, in reaction to
the negative World/life experiences you made the conscious
decision to put yourself through… Even now when the real hell is
revealed for what IT really is, at the end of the drama line,
can you not even now stop serving the UE-hate/revenge drive?
‘Was it your father the so-called war hero, talking his
self-justifying war story/war hero horse shit, getting drunk?
Did he beat you as a kid because he wanted someone else to
suffer for his UE so unstable because he made the conscious
decision to kill people in the war? Is that what started you
down the road to what you’ve become… even when your personality
was still developing as a young child, was someone feeding you
the evil mental vomit to self-corrupt your thinking processes…
and you out to pretend you father was abusing you because he was
some great war hero, when really he was just another bum trying
to blame and make someone else suffer in place of the evil in
him trying to make him suffer because of all the people he
killed and wounded and all the evil he did… Is that IT? As a
child you tried to make excuses, self-justify your father’s evil
behavior as something other than evil? You even tried to join
the IRA, didn’t you, you conscious moron? Yet your own/ed father
got off his ass and immediately did all he could to get you out,
proving you never knew a single thing about him or killing or
anything else?
‘Now what, you perceive me as a good guy, and yet you are
so under the control of a DCC-made-with-UE you actually feel the
need to destroy the good conscious me to… and stop me from doing
some good, to try and save a failed World/life from itself… Why
exactly, so the failed World/life will be retained? Why? What
purpose exactly, because you don’t know how to think any other
way other than as a failure, who doesn’t want to have all you
think and do, be rendered totally obsolete, exposed as just evil
for the sake of evil? Just how under the control of a DCC-madewith-UE are you? Can’t you think your way out of the Paradox
Snares
any
more,
evil
exploiting
the
evil
traits,
characteristics, delusions and traits UE is the sum of, in order
to manipulate conscious-you as a hapless UE-human pawn, UEbuilding block fool-conscious-tool… I mean really… Just how many
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
228
bad World/life experiences have you had that even now you rant
and rave why the entire human race are worthless evil animals so
nothing can be done about IT all? Just how many people have you
interacted with during your World/life time? What? A few
thousand… Yet I am a good guy, Michael, what about the guys like
me out there? Don’t they deserve a shot at the truth? Your UE
really can drive you to destroy me too you are so under the grip
of a DCC-made-with-UE… huh? Moron! You work on the issue of
crime! So too does everyone else you know… if not lawmen, then
criminals… What about those who do the rite thing?
‘You’re criminally insane Michael… This is what insanity
really is… Out for revenge against some concept you can’t even
define… Backed up only by some totally conscious-mindless UEhate/revenge drive… And yet you think what exactly, you want
revenge against people you don’t even know and have never even
met, just because a bunch of bums treated you badly enough for a
UE to have the external stimulation to self-convince consciousyou of some nonsense such as the true spirit of the universe and
all World/life is an evil spirit that must be destroyed by your
evil inspired hate-revenge/drive to upset the intended plan for
purity to win? This is insanity Michael!’
Michael had managed to self-convince himself Robinson was
going to come here today, to bitch and moan that he had wasted
months, and had failed to work out any relevant answers. For the
only counter/made-to/measures Robinson had in mind were utterly
insane in the extreme-that no one sane could possibly then take
seriously. But now Michael understood Robinson really did intend
to go ahead with his crazy counter/made-to/measures. At least
crazy if one was consciously self-convinced by an unconscious
evil intellect mortality and the self was all one had and should
be concerned with, and all ended with death, and everything
meant nothing, so therefore all should be dragged as quickly as
possible down into hate and death.
In college, fellow students had often called Robinson the…
GRIZZLY
As in…
I hear the grizzly will be there!
Robinson’s hands always reminded Michael of shovels.
Robinson had grayish brown hair that covered his entire body,
even his back. Michael had seen it in the fraternity’s showers.
Robinson was a serious character. He always said exactly what he
meant. He hardly ever raised his voice. Even so, in the past,
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
229
Robinson had hardly ever given his opinion on any subject or
matter. If anything, Robinson had referred to other people’s
opinions and works if he required filling trivial conversation
and polite World/life social chitchat. It was as if Robinson
hadn’t cared about anything. Rather than the fact that Robinson
secretly had believed in nothing, because what was there that
really could be believed in, when society was out to keep all
down in ignorance, for if there were any good and worthwhile
ideas out there, Robinson had never come across them? Robinson’s
immense size had ensured he’d never been in any arguments. Or,
if an argument started, and Robinson rolled his eyeballs, and
walked away, or said he didn’t give a shit about the subject
because it was meaningless horse shit, and he’d just been
filling time, who was going to force him to continue the
argument?
No wonder, Michael brooded.
Throughout their friendship, Michael had sensed deep down,
one most particular waking reality World/life day, the real and
repressed Robinson was just going to explode outwards, full of
new ideas-there was actual evidence for.
Suddenly Michael was daydreaming an interpretative image.
He saw Roger down in the A2-holding cell, unable to see his
own/ed reflection in the Postmescic mind God tomb blackened
glass-window Roger was about to remove by the force of will
power alone.
SUNDAY-CHICKEN-DINNER EATER MICHAEL…
THROUGH PRISONERS SWEAT AND TOIL TO BEND UNBENDABLE BARS
THAT DOES THEREFORE BEND ONLY YOU…
…Michael cursed that Robinson’s World/life presence here
today, had caused by association, Michael’s UE to return to
self-haunt him with a maddening chanting/echoing tune totally
separate from his conscious intellect usually acting and
reacting around UE and taking direction, directly from UE…
An image flashed into his mind… Robinson always tolerated a
verbal argument. Robinson never thought to resort to physical
violence in response. A great fury arose as the division between
conscious Michael and the UE in turmoil in him, closed. Before
Michael knew any better, he was roaring so loudly, even his
secretary Cathy, though on the other side of the office door,
heard him…
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
230
‘What
in
the
State/mind
Postmescic/Embodiment-Reasonweaving-hell are you trying to say to me, you crazed bastard!
You’re actually willing to go through with these counter/madeto/measures in the full extreme, so you can hope to…
‘BREAK, WHAT SELF-SET-UNIVERSAL-DESTRUCTIVE-PATTERN/MORTAL
UNIVERSE-PHYSICAL PRISON THAT-CANNOT EVER BE BROKEN, AND THAT
THEREFORE EVER ONLY BREAKS YOU-THE PRISONER CONSTANTLY KEPT DOWN
AS A SLAVE WITHIN!
‘If this is so, then you’re nothing but yet another in a
long line of God-damned, self-swindling, deal-making, damned,
too,
too-mortal-fool/UE-building-block-conscious-tool-humans!’
Michael continued to rant his insane nonsense/mental vomit-puked
out of the UE dreaming up nightmares whose substance/content was
the type of RO-Culture logic Michael had grown up surrounded by,
and that as such his UE could now constantly reenact the
essential ethos and spirit of the bad memories of. Robinson
responded by bending down to the half burnt box he’d lain out on
the office floor earlier. He retrieved the large white envelope
with the burning-red cross on the cover he had weighed down with
his car-keys. He opened this envelope. He withdrew the thick
file interned inside. He flicked through the file like a reader
browsing in the library as he tried to decide which book he
wanted.
Robinson felt sick. How could the sum of the most relevant
medical facts that self-determined how long his physical
existence could endure down here on this Earth, be contained in
a file so narrow? And those facts stated in such a cold and a
detached manner?
He shut the file. He tossed it onto Michael’s desktop.
Temporarily distracted by Robinson’s unexpected calm reaction,
Michael looked down furiously.
‘What is this? More horseshit about Roger Madican James!
Another poor ex-RO-orphan bastard’s invaded permanent-RO-record
file he was told burned up in that fire?’
‘In a way. You see it’s my medical file. You Michael at
least
have
the
illusion
of
having
perhaps
decades
of
mortal/physical World/life left ahead of you in this so-called
mortal prison you can never escape. I don’t even have that small
comfort. IT’s all as good as over for me.’
Angry, but upset, Michael began to glance through the
medical file.
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
231
‘I’m dying Michael. So is my baby August. August’s heart
never developed fully while she was growing in the womb. I told
you about the magnetic tape up in the A9-interrogation room back
in August 1964? The doctor’s say, by the time August grows to be
four or five years of age, the strain of her bigger body will be
too much for her little heart to take. But they tell me it will
be a miracle if I live long enough to bury her, or even to see
her second birthday! I’m going to be leaving the universe
mortal/prison one way or another Michael… Sooner rather than
later…’
‘Even knowing all that you do, you named her August? …Selffulfilling prophecy then…’
‘I did! Out of blind fate a pure Inora-mind-God will have
ensured the means within even this IT’s self-made-nightmaremortal-universe, to allow me to win the damnation game.’
‘Blind fate in the good in your own/ed conscious self and
soul alone you mean,’ Michael grumbled, ‘because that good
simply won’t die. No wonder you invented such screwy counter/made-to-/measures… You don’t expect to live anyway… What do you
care then what all out bloody hell you start for the rest of us
to then be left to deal with the mess after you are gone?’
‘If you and I Michael, hadn’t somehow fallen out without
any logical conscious reason given, you would have been August’s
Godfather. The alien’s cancer has spread throughout my body. IT
has even self-metastasized in my bones. There’s no hope of
physical survival.’
‘Yah,’ Michael muttered so low Robinson barely heard him.
Fully red in the face and appearing utterly ashamed of himself,
Michael sat back down behind his desk. He couldn’t bring himself
to look at his old friend. He looked off into the far upper
rite-hand corner of his grand office. ‘You’re such a young man,’
he muttered. He was then rendered too weak to bother finishing
the statement. There was no talking the facts away. There really
had to be a relationship between spiritual and mortal death
then, both perceptions of which were governed by the too same
UE, given it was the fact of Robinson’s mortal death that had
woken Michael out of his state of spiritual death when the DCCmade-with-UE disconnected temporarily.
‘Tell me about IT.’
There came a knock on the shining wood office door.
Michael’s secretary, Cathy, appeared carrying a tray supporting
two cups of coffee and donuts. Just behind her, and almost out
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
232
of sight, were two security personnel. Robinson walked over to
the couch positioned with its back against the sidewall. He sat
down before the coffee table. He stared vacantly at the wall
opposite him.
It was one thing to accept he was dying. It was another to
hear himself actually tell his best friend there was no hope for
Robinson. And then have to witness Michael physically reacting
this way. It was enough to bring home the stark reality of the
concept of his premature end, twice as powerfully as before. IT
was like living in a nightmare that he would never, ever wake up
from. Until finally then, he was in a hospital bed being told IT
was going to happen any minute, any second, and there was no
turning the clock back, no suffering until he got well again.
All that he was, the child with such dreams, the man with such
hopes, was to be all gone in an instant.
When Michael chose to look at the blank wall, Robinson
immediately felt like a self-haunted ghost rendered invisible in
the room. He had seen temporary grief, fear, and loss betrayed
by Michael’s eyes. At that precise moment Robinson had glimpsed
the World/life without Robinson in it. IT was a World/life that
would simply continue on as usual as if Robinson had never been.
Already, Michael was shutting down to protect himself
emotionally. Michael was experiencing more than shock. He was
already experiencing the grief of a mourner at a funeral, who
was already self-preparing to get on with his new World/life
without the presence of his best pal at his side.
‘Is everything all right?’ Cathy asked suspiciously.
Pale faced, and suddenly appearing to see Robinson as
already gone from this IT’s made-World/life, and then not long
after the universe gone with IT, Michael nodded. Without looking
at Cathy, he waved her away with his hand. Cathy looked
indignant to be treated in such a shabby fashion. Cathy was
Michael’s secret lover. Cathy didn’t know she was only one of
three women Michael was presently having affairs with behind
Deirdre’s back, so Michael might hope to try and control his
fears of mortal/spiritual death that was a fear his UE
controlled and use to cement and reinforce DCC-made-with-UE and
evil directed thinking in conscious-Michael. Cathy thought she
only had to contend with Deirdre, Michael’s wife, as a loverival.
Imagine how I must feel, Robinson thought as he caught
Cathy reacting in the corner of his eye.
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
233
Cathy gave Michael a dirty look.
Tomorrow, you and Michael will be friends again. I might
not even be here!
Nonetheless, the old Robinson, the dying Robinson, was out
to leave his mark on the World/life while he was still able. And
saving the World/life, and in particular saving the World/life
for his descendants, was the best mark of all to leave as his
legacy. He never wanted another human being to have to suffer
like he had to suffer, or to be tricked by RO-Culture into a
shared state of damnation with the UE.
WHY DO YOU EVEN BOTHER TO TRY?
WHAT IS THE POINT?
THE HUMAN WORLD/LIFE DOESN’T WANT TO BE SAVED/SELF-HEALED…
PEOPLE WANT TO CONTINUE WITH HIS AND HER UE-PURPOSE-SERVING WAYS
PRETENDING EVIL IS GOOD AND THE BEST FASHION/RAGE OF THE DAY…
NO MATTER WHAT
AND COME FULL OF RAGE AND DENIAL WHEN TOLD THE VERY REVERSE
IS THE ACTUAL TRUTH!
‘Cathy,’ Robinson said. He had met Cathy often on prior
trips to Washington. ‘Before you leave, would you be kind enough
to leave the coffee… I feel I need something to boost my
spirits.’
For a brief moment, Michael gave Cathy a hostile look. He
wished to let her know not to try leaving with the coffee,
because she thought she was no longer just his secretary. Red
faced, the indignant Cathy nodded. She placed the tray on the
glass-topped coffee table. Then she left. Self-mirroring style,
where the UE-governed state of mind the abuser knew-was
recreated in the victim, with a similar distant look in her
angry eyes, and the too-same shooing gesture of her hand that
Michael Riordan had just used to dismiss her, Cathy dismissed
the security personnel. Once Cathy heard the news of Robinson’s
cancer, Michael would be forgiven for humiliating Cathy in front
of others. But the security personnel would remember Cathy as a
stuck-up bitch, especially given the story had gotten around
that Cathy and Michael were having an affair behind Deirdre’s
back. Robinson would never forgive himself if he didn’t now make
the best use out of this World/life situation.
‘We’re all dying,’ Robinson said quietly. He began to fix
his coffee. ‘Each and every one of us, each and every hour, of
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
234
each and every day. Slowly but surely… I just now know I’ve got
less time than I expected to have… Don’t you see Michael? You’ve
allowed yourself, in the name of playing the RO-Culture game, to
deconstruct your conscious self back into a World/life where
you-may as well be surrounded by inanimate objects and lifeless
mannequins for all the real and worthwhile connections you have
with real and worthwhile human beings… Yet you think this
spiritually dead World/life is your reward for working so hard
to belong in a RO-Culture system, whose very concept was
pacifically self-designed by evil and inspired into the mind of
man to then make this RO-Culture system real, so evil has the
best change to self-corrupt all… Spiritual death… You’re still
doing what you started to do with your father… Thinking you
should thank the bad people who abused you and mistreated you
for giving you the UE-inspired hell-fire in your gut to drive
you with a killer’s hate to get to the top that is a reward you
don’t even want… You only think you do, you are so mislead from
the truth of the true you… I mean what reward do you get anyway?
Is IT that UE lends to you the sensation you are a powerful big
shot lawman because you have a gun and expensive suits and a car
and lawmen that take orders from you… IT’s just the UE-drive…
The Postmescic trappings aren’t even real… You’re got nothing
that is real or worthwhile… You’re a lost soul overcome by evil…
I mean if you were a rich businessman you’d probably buy three
expensive boats, so you could have breakfast on one, dinner on
the next, tea on the third, while surrounded by a bunch of
ignorant human animals who say you are a big shot because you
have so much money… and squander millions every day just to feel
like a powerful big shot while children die in the Third
World/life for want of a dollar… Don’t you see, IT all goes back
to the UE-drive that lends to conscious-you the sensation you
are as powerful as an evil God out to recreate itself anytime
you deconstruct the conscious self back into evil… because evil
wants it this way… The rest, the guns, the lawmen, the suits,
the cars, or the businessman and his three boats and yes men to
make him feel like a big shot… IT’s all the real Devil’s
trappings to reinforce the original UE-inspired hate/revenge
drive when you destroy/deconstruct back into an evil animal the
original conscious self and everyone around the self, and yet
you think what… You are powerful and cunning and wise and street
smart and savvy and accepting of an evil reality… IT’s bullshit
Michael! IT’s a reality you can go to the State mind
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
235
Postmescic/Embodiment hell and self-named spiritual extinction
for!’
YET IF YOU SERVED UE-EVIL
YOU’D FORGET YOUR FEAR OF MORTAL DEATH
AND GET TO FEEL AS POWERFUL AS THE POSTMESCIC MIND GOD
YOU COULD THEN ACTUALLY BECOME AS THE CONSCIOUS CROWN NUT-JOB…
‘That’s all that has really changed… the expectation of
having a few more decades, and then not having to think about
IT-all.’
You’d think IT’s presence would make you feel the same way,
Robinson thought. He could only presume that Michael’s UE
communicated the message that the Postmescic mind God was a
irreversible fact of universal life that should never be
questioned, and for some reason Michael felt calmed by this
fact, just because all he could presently physically see was
mortal and ultimately died.
Still in a daze, Michael nodded his head. He continued to
stare at the blank wall opposite him. Then slowly he thought to
say, ‘I suppose it helps you to see it this way. I though… I
prefer to see World/life in everything, rather than decay… the
force of death. I suppose it’s just an illusion… all of it… And
Lisa? Little Richard?’
‘He and she don’t know. I want to keep it this way for the
time being.’
‘That isn’t fair of you…’
‘So what? Why? So he and she can self-prepare for me to be
gone to, before I actually am? That’s not living. Not for me. I
need other people to react off of,’ Robinson said. ‘You know
when my mother Ira died, the family farm was sold. I came into
some money. Some of it I used to pay for my wedding. Some of it
I put towards the down payment on my house. Some of it I used to
take out an extensive World/life insurance policy. Lisa should
have nothing to worry about financially, for some time, if at
all. If I die anywhere within ten years from now, she’ll have a
fixed income that rises annually according to inflation. It will
be the best part of eighty percent of what I presently take home
as Sheriff.’ He did not mention yet his alternative dark plans
for Lisa, little Richard and August.
‘That’s not what I meant and you know it,’ Michael finally
stared at Robinson. Michael seemed to see him for the first time
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
236
since he had heard the news of the invasive alien’s cancer out
to kill his only friend. Robinson had been rite. Michael might
as well be surrounded only with inanimate objects and lifeless
mannequins lost in some spiritually dead nightmare World/life,
for all the worthwhile and real relationships he had left with
other people. Obviously the pain of staring at Robinson was too
much for Michael to bear, his very last PP:FCIC-made-with-IGassociation, the rest being DCC-made-with-UE associations. He
had to advert his eyes for a few vital seconds. He chose to
stare at empty space, before he had the guts to look back again
at the physical man still breathing the air in his office.
At that moment Robinson forgave Michael for dismissing him
as already dead and gone from this World/life, and probably the
next World/life to. Robinson now knew Michael would never forget
him. Robinson figured he would forgive Michael, when Michael
decided in strictest privacy to tell Cathy the news about the
cancer, so Cathy might forgive the unacceptable way Michael had
dismissed her out of his office like someone a step above a paid
whore. ‘You know Michael, about what you started to shout at me
when I first same into your office?’
‘Forget about IT,’ Michael said. ‘Time is too short for
holding grudges. My reaction just now… after you told me about…
your condition… It wasn’t you that made me react so shabbily… IT
was the thought of this entire unholy thing… You know what I
mean. This… this is a dose of reality to wake me up to the
actuality of this entire thing. But I mean Inora-mind-God
Robinson, these other guys you intend to put through IT… They
aren’t fated for premature death anyway, are they? They’d have
to be so very young and mentally strong and so very physically
fit… Even so, even then… No… No one could take IT… or have the
mental and physical strength and stamina and resolve to do all
that needs to be actually now done and done as if for time
without end… You expect too much, not only from others, but even
yourself? IT’s all simply an impossible task you have set out
Robinson? Don’t you see this yet?’
‘Not just any others… IT prophesized in the dead house, I
would become the temporarily adopted spiritual dream father of
the other two good divined Players,’ Robinson said. ‘I expect
the other two good divined Players then, to be exceptional men,
so well self-trained, self-styled, and I then to one day find
them. If they are divined… they will take IT all, all-rite!
They’ll have gone through the constant soul-testing trauma
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
237
already, the constant self-training, self-styling you see…’
Robinson directed his eyes away from the painting of the three
ships/boats at sea hung on the wall opposite him. He looked back
at Michael’s expectant face. This time it was Robinson who
couldn’t acknowledge the physical reality of Michael Riordan.
Robinson felt so uncomfortable at the thought of wounding
Michael, like Michael had just wounded Robinson, Robinson had to
return his gaze to the painting. ‘Look Michael! Over the last
few months in my own/ed mind, I to dismissed your existence. I
reduced your entire personality to a Postmescic hell’s own/ed
stereotype/demonic joker in my own/ed mind… In order to give me
the negative-energy UE-inspired hate/revenge-drive to work to
prove you, and all of my critics, and all other people, and my
own/ed primal self-doubts wrong.
‘Primate hate of a man, who inspired primal hate in me, I
suppose you could describe IT as. But that hate never resulting
in physical action that leads to sin. Around and around IT goes,
self-mirroring style, while I try to bring some sort of
independent conscious life force spirit and perspective to IT’s
black-Postmescic-arts-magic proceedings. I’ve been doing a lot
of that lately, with everyone I meet. I make wild and buffoonish
statements, or act like a crazed half-wit clown, so I might get
people to dismiss me, and call me crazy… So, in conflict with
UE-drives to conform to my society, and maintain a good selfimage, and to get other people to support and reinforce my
own/ed self-chosen, self-image and self-chosen belief system…
And simultaneously, I, all out to prove what I believe is vital
beliefs
that
go
directly
against
the
so
fashionable
thinking/rage of the day and the RO-Culture status quo grain…
‘Well, as you can imagine the internal conflict built up
real fast in me. IT drove me to work out the truth as quickly as
possible. I even used the fact that I was dying of cancer, to
play around and manipulate myself into forming various different
states of mind… Form a state of mind once, you can reform it
again at a later date… I have to know every state of mind
conscious-Roger can know… In particular all states of mind that
can result due to DCC-made-with-UE…’
Michael smiled. ‘Yah, I understand…
‘CHASING THE REAL-DEVIL IN HIS OWN/ED SO VERY MORTAL
WORLD/LIFE SELF-IMAGE…
‘And you did so for your…
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
238
‘SELF-CRITICAL-MIND, CENTERED-/-THE ROTTEN-RO-HEART-/-SELFHANGED
ACTOR-MAN’S–FICTIONS-WORLD/LIFE-ARENA/STAGE-NAME!’
Michael sighed. Unnaturally tense, he leaned back into his
chair. He sighed again. He ran his fingers through his silky
hair. The sensation of connecting with his own/ed healthy
cleanliness always comforted him, as much as a good workout when
he felt he sweated out the garage in his physical system did.
Deep down, he had known this confrontation would have to
eventually come, especially as George Ira Robinson had been
involved. Michael realized deep down he had wanted Robinson to
return, demanding Michael’s help. And especially when Robinson
had finally figured out the way forward, or at least thought he
had. ‘Look Robinson! I don’t see there is much that I can do for
you. There has not been one single physical sighting of Roger
Madican James? With the exception of the dead bodies, and the
two Human Reason Victims Roger left behind, and the barred-A2cell-window… There’s absolutely no physical evidence to back up
our wild claims that in essence attack everyone directly?
‘Anyway, it’s not as if everything that can be done, isn’t
already being done? Patrick Watkins is head of the State police…
He has immense resources at his disposal?’
‘Patrick Watkins,’ said Robinson. ‘Is only concerned with
waiting around until his early retirement comes through. Until
then, he does not want to rock the boat more than will be
tolerated by the establishment. O, he’ll still help me out with
all of my requests… Until the day my requests become too risky.
‘Patrick Watkins probably likes to think he’ll move to a
tropical Island somewhere. Once there, he and his wife can enjoy
what few World/life years may be left for him and her. Then, he
probably reckons, he’ll just die to nothingness, and be, no
more, alongside everyone else.
‘No Michael! I cannot have any superiors to answer to!
Never again will I answer to anyone! Nor will any of my men!’
‘What men? In your file-R.I.P./unedit blueprint you
mentioned only historic roles that require filling, any man in
the rite place and time and with the rite mindset to do?’
‘Forget about that for the moment. First off… Given the
fire in the hall of permanent-RO-records, I’ll need a list of
the names and present addresses of every last ex-RO-orphan and
ex-RO-graduate and ex-RO-staff member who was in RO between 1959
and 1964. I’ll also require the RO-committee reports regarding
the documentation of how the RO-orphans really treated Roger
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
239
back over even still operational RO-woe, and talked among
themselves behind his back. This information will surely allow
me a way into working out how IT rooted into the RO-society… and
thus conscious-Roger…
‘If you have really read all of file-R.I.P./unedit like you
said you have… and did not give into the UE hate/revenge drive
that compels you to simply refuse to look at the actual facts
because UE is out to keep you ignorant as a conscious mind so UE
may continue to control and destroy you… you’ll know I’ve been
trying to document Roger’s mortal World/life rite as a series of
events… and as a series of statements Roger was heard making or
wrote down somewhere… and how others in his environment viewed
and treated him and spoke and thought about him.
‘Now, I want full access, and the ability to question every
single ex-RO-orphan who might be able to aid me with this area
of my work. I want to be able to bypass any court sealed
records… and any previous official decisions made that ensure no
one can trace any of the ex-RO-orphans onto their new
World/lives.’
‘No,’ Michael shook his head. ‘Impossible. The list of
those ex-RO-orphans’ present earthly locations is legally
sealed. The RO-orphan-population has been broken up and spread
in little parties across the entire Nation. Anyway, you’re the
very guy who goes on about how UE-directed negative World/life
event/circumstances give,’ Michael grimaced. ‘UE the chance to
self-resurrect
evil-directed-thought-patterns
and
evil
judgmental thinking into a conscious-mind… So going around
dredging up the nightmarish past, and causing trouble for these
ex-RO-kids…
and
letting
whichever
people
are
presently
surrounding these ex-RO-kids know about their so very sordid
World/life background… could cause those kids a lot of
unnecessary trouble. And for what end gain exactly? Like you’ve
stated in your own/ed file-R.I.P./unedit, conscious minds are in
no fit state to explain what is ultimately a force of anticonsciousness. And they are nothing but hapless UE-human pawns
anyway, void of any conscious insight into the so sick and
twisted ugly condition that controls them in Postmescic-IT’s
name.’
‘Well, well, well,’ Robinson said quietly. ‘If my requests
have been shot down so soon, IT can only mean you weren’t just
sitting on your ass these past few months.’
‘I’m sure I don’t know what you are talking about?’
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
240
‘Give me a break Michael! I know you! What did we talk
about that August 9th 1964 day in the underground jailhouse just
before we headed back to try and kill Roger in his A2 holding
cell… because I realized I had been hoodwinked and this was not
the correct response… We get to save the lives of the ROorphans, ensure they are not screwed up, by us two executing
Roger…
‘You couldn’t face the Postmescic-Roger-combination, so
instead you ran off and tried to help whom you saw as his
surviving World/life victims. How very nice of you! The poor
little ex-RO-orphans… The kids who ever only sinned in their
thoughts and words… and so could believe they could be forgiven
by a compassionate God-who really is a sinner enabler if such
crap logic is anything to go by…
‘The kids who wanted a God or savior they could kick
around, symbolically shit and piss all over, and beat down
mentally, and mock and torture… and when he was down, kick him
back down, and then kick him again and again and never let him
up until he was all gone… and if he came back at all, he was too
come back to say he forgave them all… for they did not know what
they did, and they could get to kick him down again and again,
and be forgiven, and all could be well…
‘O yah, there’s truth to Jesus Christ all-rite in their
minds, and IT’s going to be forgiveness and heaven for them all.
‘No wonder such a concept lasted so many ages…
‘Yet, I wonder why IT’d be, you’d try to ensure IT would be
something like this in their future, and you the great personal
savior?
Why
should
Postmescic-IT
want
this?
Why
would
Postmescic-IT allow this?
‘Now, why don’t you tell me, what exactly IT was, or more
likely, what IT is, you think you’re going to do for these poor
little innocent ex-RO-orphans? And exactly what you’ve concocted
behind the so very earthly World/life scenes so no outsiders
will ever know IT was you out to do some good-really in the name
of evil… because if you were really out to do some good, you’d
be siding with me and my ideas to change the RO-Culture status
quo? And not hanging onto the failed ideas and systems and
thinking processes of the past that ensured evil human history
became by this day, what IT-Postmescic is?
‘Jesus Inora God… I’ll bet you even have some sort of a
list somewhere, rite in this very fine office of yours!’
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
241
‘Fine,’ Michael said. ‘I know you won’t understand… But
yes, I didn’t just sit on my ass since I ran out on you back
over the doomed and disused RO.
‘Look, you know who Harry Shinnick is?’
‘How could I not?’ Robinson said. Harry Shinnick was the
richest and most influential and powerful Irish American ROgraduate, whose reputation Dorothy Philpot had once done nothing
but exploit, in her bid to get her RO-orphans to do what she had
wanted them to do and tow the RO-Culture party line. Basically
she’d abused the kids for the sake of abuse and left them in
pain. Yet she had told the kids they were being abused because
she was out to turn them into people like Harry Shinnick. Then
poor orphaned kids, unable to face the reality they were being
abused for the sake of abuse, tortured for the sake of torture,
lied to for the sake of lies, evil for the sake of evil, and for
no other logical reason… had of course self-pretended Dorothy
Philpot to be some great expert who could churn out Harry
Shinnick-like financial success stories into the World/life. As
expected IT was believed in the gut by the RO-orphans, in a
World/life that pulled no punches, there surely had to be a high
price to pay for such success, thus the mindless abuse was selfjustified and had secret meaning? In short, there are no free
lunches in this World/life was the so-called logic. As such
expect abuse and pain and hard work.
The fact that the rest of society was out to imply at a gut
level if one became evil, one could become a great success
story, had only added to the mental confusion and nonsense
thinking processes governed by DCC-made-with-UE that developed
in the RO-orphans. The RO-orphans had become damaged people told
if they wanted to be happy and whole and complete again they had
to become famous or rich or both. The fool RO-orphans actually
believed this. In reality, all that had happened was a UEhate/revenge drive had been woken in them to scream and roar and
rant and rave a load of mental vomit dreamed up by UE and to
drive the self to the top, no matter how many people they had to
abuse and exploit and step on and turn into damaged people just
like they were, before they then got to the top. No wonder
Michael Riordan self-identified with them enough to try and do
something for them?
Yet, in truth, once at the top, they’d continue to abuse
and exploit and to step on others and grab all for the self. As
such they would never get well, never become whole and complete
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
242
again. Instead, they would always remain the UE-human pawns
ranting and raving and grabbing all for the self, and spreading
around nothing but evil. And all in the name of some mere
concept considered more valuable than human beings!
While if Religious teachings didn’t amount to sinner
enabling lies, then even the Religious people put the concept of
the next World/life before this World/life and the value of
mortal human World/life, because the Religious teachings failed
to make this actual physical World/life into a fair and just and
intended place, and as such nothing ever changed.
‘Harry is already overseeing the construction of one of, if
not the largest Nuclear Power Plant in all of America? …Down in
the Arizona desert, somewhere close to Phoenix?’
Michael nodded. ‘That’s rite, down in Arizona, not far from
Phoenix. Within the next month, Harry is going to issue a very
important press release. After all the bad publicity… and after
all the true World/life horror stories and rumors, and
speculation about RO and the ex-RO-orphans so widely reported of
late… Harry Shinnick has decided to step in and do something
about IT-all.’
‘Is he now?’ Robinson was suddenly full of dread as he saw
within his mind’s eye the Postmescic-mind-God re-surfacing when
he imagined the series of World/life/social event/circumstances
Michael then went on to describe.
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
243
PART 4
(OF 5-PARTS)
‘Every single ex-RO-orphan who attended RO… and of
particular importance those who attended RO between 1959 and the
eventual shutdown in 1964… and every single ex-RO-graduate who
is presently finding it tough to get a job in the present
hostile World/life environment… and who has difficulty making
ends meet… can now apply for a secure job with excellent
benefits at that Nuclear Power plant. The ex-RO-orphans are to
receive special consideration for long-term employment, over
other applicants not connected to RO. If applications are
successful, they’ll immediately begin paid self-training for a
position to be filled once the Plant has been built and put into
operation. Hopefully this Plant will be in operation by the end
of this year. Basically, if ex-RO-orphans apply, their names are
going to be put straight to the top of the consideration list,
before all other names of non ex-RO-men. And in the order any
ex-RO-orphan applies.’
‘That’s discrimination these ex-RO-kids are themselves
guilty of…’ Robinson said.
‘Yah, well, in the present climate, no one but you
Robinson, really gives a damn. Shinnick’s already built a
fantastic town around that Nuclear Power Plant, to accommodate
his workforce. This town is considered the most modern in all of
this most particular Country. I’ve been down there myself. I was
so impressed I’d nearly like to live there.’
‘Sure you would!’ Robinson understood Michael was a lot
cleverer than Robinson had given him credit for. Yet at the same
time, he could not help but feel real dread. He remembered the
Post/man’s warnings, concerning how Robinson should never let a
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
244
rotten-RO-heart personality such as Michael Riordan had, be in a
position of major World/life influence on this R.M.J.-case.
‘Think
what
you
will
Robinson.
But
if
I
was
an
eighteen/nineteen year old just starting out in World/life… and
facing World/life social persecution wherever I went in this
country due to the RO/Roger Madican James-stigma I carry… that
town would be a Godsend to me, a real refuge. There is excellent
housing employees will get for a fraction of the price they
would have to pay elsewhere for such quality. Down there, there
will be highly self-trained private security guards patrolling
the Plant grounds. There will others to keep the streets safe.
There will be everything from stores and public services, to the
very best air conditioner systems, and public swimming pools.
Everything possible, is to be given to help those workers set up
at the very least, good, lower middleclass lives, with long term
World/life potential to advance to middle, and even upper middle
class! Secure present and futures then! Nothing to worry about!’
‘That’s just great Michael,’ Robinson said to test Michael.
‘Try to round up all the ex-RO-orphans who featured strongly as
minor players in Roger’s predetermined mortal World/life rite
history… and that controlled most of the World/life social
patterns and society that turned conscious-Roger into the
Postmescic-mind-God-Roger… and stick them all together down in
the same piss ant little town surrounding a Nuclear Power Plant,
way out somewhere in the Arizona desert.’ Robinson smiled
thinly. ‘You know… I underestimated you Michael, and your gifted
abilities for prophecy. And I’m not just talking about when I
reduced you to a Postmescic hell’s own/ed stereotype/demonic
joker in my own/ed mind, when I wished to use the UEhate/revenge drive to power my…
‘SELF-CRITICAL-MIND, CENTERED-/-THE ROTTEN-RO-HEART-/-SELFHANGED ACTOR-MAN’S–FICTIONS-WORLD/LIFE-ARENA/STAGE-NAME!’
‘I reckon every last one of us have a lot to figure out
about people,’ said Michael. ‘You know, if Roger is trapped in
the past-constantly-reenacting… Well, let’s just say even though
I know nothing about any realistic counter/made-to/measures to
break out of some predetermined spiritual death pattern/mortal
physical prison universe-as you seem to like to think that you
do, I’d still like to know where the ex-RO-orphans are.’
‘The bait, you really mean. You’re going to be more
valuable to me than I initially thought,’ Robinson said.
‘O Inora mind God, what have I said to land me in IT now?’
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
245
‘You’re an actor/salesman Michael, even if to spiritually
dead too know IT! And I happen to need actor/salesmen rite about
now! This is very unexpected… But you know Michael, now that I
reflect on IT, you always did have a knack…’ Robinson had read
the work Roger’s old Silver Springs Grade schoolteacher, Jacob
Jefferson, had paid Roger ten dollars a page for. ConsciousRoger had written a story with some very complicated imagery,
concerning the Arizona desert, the sun, and a Phoenix L11
enterprise. The written work had been more than mere fantasy
then on Roger’s part. IT had been actual prophecy of what so
soon had to come for he and she all-as-if-one in the future, in
reaction to the divined good Players trying to use conscious
logic to both defeat and chain IT, over IT getting to defeat and
chain he and she all. The big question now though was, was the
schoolwork
indicative
of
how
conscious-Roger
wished
the
World/life to be saved? Or indicative of how the Postmescic mind
God intended to create a predetermined history to destroy the
very same World/life? Certainly, Robinson now felt ill as he
reflected on Roger’s written work he had committed to memory…
Like an agitated predator finally rising to strike a fatal
blow against the hunted-prey, before falling down and away in
complete self-defeat, but with venom ejaculated free of its
fangs, the black road snaked through the desolate desert and
peaked. IT then disappeared over the hill on the horizon
pointing to where the sweltering post noon sun blazed in an
azure sky, giving rise to a mirage on the hilltop, dehydrating
the land, and generating temperatures surpassing 106 degrees.
Despite the air conditioning system, the PP:FCIC P/L11car’s interior was roasting. Then the quickly moving car was up
and over the steeply rising hill. The sun was level with the
windscreen. The car’s occupants could make out the distant, but
wide mountain range, overshadowing the long and rectangular
white building with the silver-mirrored windows that constituted
Phoenix L11, God’s Diary, reflecting the desert back at itself…
‘What knack?’ Michael abruptly said. His spoken words woke
Robinson from his introspective spell. ‘I didn’t sell anything.
This is all just more of your Post/man self-obsession!’
‘Nonsense! You’re selling your World/life services to me,
even now, only you don’t want to admit it consciously. Deep
down, you both need, and want to help me. You’re driven… and
reacting to your own/ed UE in the correct way. Overall, as a
whole, you do not side with evil… Only partly…’
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
246
‘I…’
‘You, nothing. How did you sell Harry Shinnick on the idea?
No, wait, without any physical evidence you could never have
told the actual universal truth? You’d have been first required
to sell the FBI Director, so you could then use the mere concept
of your FBI credentials to give your opinion weight. After all,
why else would anyone even listen to your opinions? Then you’d
have had to sell the Attorney General?
‘My Postmescic-mind-God, how far up this World/life’s selfcreated promotion ladder does this go? You even went further
than that, didn’t you? Was there some sort of Tax break
incentive given to Shinnick? Inora mind God Michael! I never saw
IT until now. You’ve got that dark shine in your eyes, just like
Watkins and I have? That shine that reflects and betrays the new
DCC-made-with-UE we all made down in the underground jailhouse
August-1964, in the face of alien spiritual forces so
unexpectedly exposed out in the open in this so very mortal
World/life of ours alone, those alien spiritual forces once
made.
‘I never realized IT until now. For I was out to sell
myself as a madman, or a buffoon to the public at large, in
order to put myself at odds with everyone and everyone’s belief
system… For Inora mind God’s sake, did I succeed in selling that
image to all? But you? But you Michael…
‘As long as you smile, and appear relaxed and confident, in
your nice clean hand-tailored suit… and you never say anything
that upsets the apple cart… people are drawn to you, aren’t he
and she? Hoping you will tell him or her what to do, or how to
make World/life a better place, because of what he or she
unconsciously sense about you? Insane unconscious insanity
reflecting UE believes it’s an instinctive memory of a
Postmescic-mind-God, constantly reenacting the essential ethos
and spirit of your memories of your alien experiences down in
the underground jailhouse with the truly dead and gone! I bet
you already know that you’ve been as good as promoted in the
area of law enforcement circles?’
Michael sat in a still and calm silence.
‘I’ll take that to mean that you do know, you’re about to
be promoted? And despite that mess back in August and October of
last year,’ Robinson said. ‘Tell me Michael, what did you tell
Harry Shinnick?’
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
247
‘Nothing,’ Michael shrugged his shoulders. ‘I did some
research. I realized that of course Shinnick wants loyal and
hardworking employees… and a more relaxed work-culture and
tightly knit World/life society. He also wants employees who
will not go looking for employment elsewhere. If this proves to
be the case, then every few years a new employee has to be found
and self-trained in and so forth.
‘Obviously then, Shinnick wants to create a secure
World/life work environment for his employees… where there is
constant room for advancement for all… and where the only
requirement for that advancement is that an employee puts in
enough World/life years. There is also to be a guaranteed
healthy pension… and a system set up that basically ensures an
employee’s primal fears over the future, and the need to secure
a comfortable World/life style, are apparently met. Employees
are to be treated as important people. Their opinions are to be
respected. Their view of reality, and belief systems are to be
considered worthwhile and constantly reinforced. This will be
reflected in such items as suggestion-boxes in all sectors of
the Nuclear Power Plant… Any suggestion that saves the company
money means a big bonus for an employee. Or, on the other end, a
suggestion that makes work easier for all the workers, and so
fort.’
‘You mean, you remembered I told you, The Post/man wrote
his letters on pages left out in a box in the RO-engine, for ROorphans to use to rat each other out? Yet another concept
considered by constant pleasure seeking, self-interested morally
bankrupt conscious-morons to be more important than fellow human
World/life?’ Robinson said. ‘And you remembered that RO-orphans
actually put up with abuse for the sake of abuse… and worked
hard to destroy the self and everyone around the self… just
because a bunch of RO-teaching staff told them there was great
secret meaning and purpose to their way of teaching and doing
things-that should make them all big shots in this World/life?
Just like Dorothy Philpot ended up driving her self to work like
a slave and she the slave master, and never for any reward she
would have gotten anyway even if she did not work so hard? When
really it was just one hate/revenge-filled UE-human pawn out to
recreate the same morally bankrupt state of failure the abuser
knew, in the abused? And no one accepting there was just evil
and abuse being done for the sake of evil and abuse, so all
might ultimately be self-corrupted and self-destroyed?’
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
248
‘So what? Reverse all negative associations? You’re always
going on about turning DCC-made-with-UE into PP:FCIC-made-withIG aren’t you? I pointed out to Shinnick that even if he is not
aware of IT, he came out of RO. RO-Culture then had to have
affected his great ideas about how to run a business. Who better
now to have work for him, but ex-RO-orphans, in dire need? And
who as such will be forever grateful to the great man stepping
in, to save the day? A healthy World/life environment and minor
closely knit society located way out in the Arizona desert
separate from the rest of the country… and this society
reinforcing a healthy way of thinking and doing things… will
surely turn all DCC-made-with-UE into PP:FCIC-made-with-IG if
these people are immersed in such a World/life society long
enough? And as such develop the correct routine they follow like
clockwork until all badness is worked out of them?’
‘Like Roger up in 5C I suppose? Huh! A personal savior,’
Robinson smiled. ‘With that dark UE-shine in your eyes… and you
exuding unconscious knowledge concerning Postmescic-Godhood… and
you with a smile, and a confident facial expression… as if you
could not be more comfortable with the World/life IT made… and
yet Shinnick and the ex-RO-orphans all knowing you survived a
bloody war with Roger Madican James down in the underground
jailhouse… And IT well known you the lawman tried to kill Roger…
you sold Shinnick the idea that if he acted like a kind adopted
father figure, rushing in as an ex-RO-man, to save the day for
the presently lost and frightened ex-RO-orphans, void of
families, and self-trained, self-prepared, self-educated, selffashioned to view him as head man of all men… they’d never
forget him for that, and would pay him back in spades, becoming
like slaves, and the self the slave master working so hard for
rewards they’d get even if they didn’t work so hard?’
‘So what,’ Michael said. ‘It will probably turn out to be
the truth anyway. Everyone’s happy. It’s good publicity to
ensure a happy ending to a dreadful World/life disaster…’
‘Disaster now, is IT?’
‘They’ll all have a good job with a good income and pension
and benefits… a wife and kids and family and friends all
supporting each other and living the good World/life? Some
politicians get to go on television, and make everyone feel that
an outburst of temporary madness can be self-contained again?
And everything in this Country always works out for the best in
the long run? And even if we are the victims of evil, we’ll damn
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
249
well get up again and stand for justice and take no shit? And
Shinnick gets a tax break, and a fine and loyal workforce. Both
the public, and in particular the ex-RO-orphans, get yet another
opportunity to believe there is such a thing as justice in this
World/life. There is more to this World/life than negative
garbage, because the only way people can believe in justice, is
if some sort of justice occurs in his or her own/ed World/lives?
And occurs in particular, when he or she are most down and in
dire need of aid… the hour of greatest need as you’d put IT… and
people are in need of being put back in touch with the conscious
soul and IG, PP:FCIC-made-with-IG-style?
‘Now, these orphaned RO-kids, need to know they haven’t
simply been just forgotten, and left yet again out in the cold
to fend for themselves… in a very lonely and hostile World/lifeout to attack them personally.
‘True, there are a lot of people who know this World/life
is tough and hard. There are high standards to be met in
business if people are to ensure a good standard of World/life
living that in turn, can ensure people can believe in justice
and World/life being good. But the majority of such people do
not want to kick a dog when he is down. He or she only wish to
be tough on people, when those people are able to coupe enough
to advance onto success.’
Robinson felt sick. He wanted to shout at Michael he was a
conscious decoding fool. But of course wasn’t history simply
repeating itself here yet again? Robinson himself had taken
Roger Madican James into his own/ed home, but ultimately
Robinson had sent Roger up to live in a RO-society separate from
the rest of society, so Roger could go on eventually to live the
good World/life… and really only so Robinson could self-pretend
he had done rite by Roger, and Robinson could feel good about
himself and forget all about Roger and his real problems? Pass
the buck… because Robinson was only interested in how he alone
felt, and no one else!
No, this time history would not be repeated… Not this time!
‘You’re beginning to sound like an ex-RO-man yourself
Michael… As if Harry Shinnick isn’t already rich enough? When
will enough be simply enough for that lost soul trying to spread
to other people his desire to celebrate his state of damnation?’
Robinson shook his head, having decided to say this instead of
the actual truth.
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
250
‘And there you were, thinking I have been just sitting on
my ass,’ Michael began. ‘You know Shinnick even come up with a
possible name for his new town, EGLEN. It is named after the
neighborhood in Ireland where Shinnick’s grandmother lived and
died, before Shinnick’s father immigrated to this great country
of ours. Shinnick never knew anything about his real family,
till he got rich enough to pay enough to find out. But even so,
despite the name EGLEN having deep personal self-significance to
Shinnick, he’s since reconsidered. In fact, the both of us
jointly decided that the town’s people should be allowed to
choose his and her own/ed name, for their own/ed new home,
because that’s what he and she are to know first and foremost…
IT will be his and her home.’
‘Of course the ex-RO-men will get to name their own/ed
hometown,’ Robinson grunted sarcastically. ‘Those ex-RO-orphans,
most of them ex-RO-seniors, will like that… What a gift for
them! After all, the RO-seniors always did like to give each and
every last RO-orphan under them, due to they being further down
the hierarchy system and pecking order, a nickname… It was the
way the RO-seniors were given their own/ed nicknames, when they
first started out, back over even still operational RO-woe,
wasn’t IT, the nickname handed down the seniority line?
‘More like a name for the rotten-RO-heart identity that
then took full shape and form and thrived over what ruins the
original and independent conscious life force spirit was
ultimately left in, thanks to RO-Culture abuse… Now, they’re all
Nuclear Power Plant worker seniors, in Shinnick’s eyes, is that
IT? Inora mind God Michael, getting Shinnick to do that might be
dangerous?’ Robinson thought of Roger’s written description
concerning how no one should ever bow to conformity of IT’s so
very
mortal
Mother
Nature’s
universal
World/lifeevent/circumstance-churning,
universal-UE-fating-mold.
‘You
really did pay close attention to what you read in my file
R.I.P./unedited, didn’t you? And all along I imagined the
complete reverse to be the truth?’
‘Not as dangerous as the risks you’re now out to take
through your crazy file-R.I.P./unedit, and the counter/madeto/measures? Ultimately, on a larger World/life scale, I am only
trying to do for the ex-RO-orphans as a whole, what you are
trying to do for Roger the single individual… Remove DCC-madewith-UE? Replace with PP:FCIC-made-with-IG? No risk, no gain?
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
251
‘Anyway, no one’s World/life is going to be ruined because
of what that crazy bastard did up at that RO-orphanage, when we
both know IT would have happened, no matter where consciousRoger grew up… and as soon as he was consciously-rooted firmly
enough into some small World/life society, and into whatever
unconscious madness he seems to like to think rules IT’s
universal World/life!’
‘Save selling me of all people your conscious decoding
political speeches… Michael, you crazy bastard, you know deep
down what you’ve really done…’ Robinson couldn’t help but
remember when he had, had a conversation with Lisa concerning
how he should go and see doctor Jorgen. He had mentioned in
passing, as if it had meant nothing, Cane going off to build a
city. The moment he had mentioned the concept of a new city, he
had felt something stirring in him that had affected him deeply,
though he hadn’t known why as a conscious mind. At an
unconscious level, and thanks to the Postmescic mind God
focusing/concentrating
on
him
so
alone,
he
had
somehow
unconsciously known all about the new town down in the Arizona
desert, so close to Phoenix.
‘Don’t ever call me crazy again, you hobbling corpse! What
fucking World/lives am I putting at risk, compared to your
counter/made-to/measure file-R.I.P./unedit/blueprint insanity to
be made a physical reality? What, you are the Postmescic-mindGod, who can spin and risk the very World/life itself? And I not
even to be self-trusted to decide what to do about some lowly
ex-RO-orphan-kids, just because they indirectly fucked up my
World/life-even if they were too young and stupid to know IT-for
what IT really is?’
The words had left Michael’s mouth even before he had the
time to reconsider. Once more Michael appeared to be shocked by
his own/ed actions and words. IT really was as if his consciousmask of he being a good man was so fragile he was staggered
anytime he understood another person actually believed in the
conscious-mask.
‘You know,’ Robinson continued in the same steady tone of
voice. He was only breathing heavily due to the fluids building
up in his lungs. He would have to go to the hospital to have the
fluids drained. His alien cancer was suddenly getting worse,
coming out of self-set-dormancy. ‘I talked to Charles Edward
Damien?’
‘Crazy dead eye? What? Where? When?’
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
252
PART 5
(OF 5-PARTS)
‘Virginia State. Damien never left. All this time he was
rite there under my nose. When I found him, Damien had already
quit college. He’d joined the regular army. When I last talked
to him he was a cadet in the infantry officer basic course!’
‘And?’ asked Michael Riordan in his office.
‘Nothing,’ said Robinson in a matter-of-fact tone of voice.
‘To use his own/ed wording Damien told me…
‘I don’t know why that crazy bitch wrote in her photo
album, what she did write about Deirdre and I… But it is nothing
but a pack of dirty lies written down by a truly dirty and sick
and perverted whore bitch. Frankly, I never did have much
sympathy for her, even when I first read she was murdered stone
dead.
‘Damien claimed Roger was always a nutcase. That’s all he
knew about him. Damien said he had better things to be worrying
about, like his upcoming tour in Nam he was all geared up for!’
‘There you go!’
‘Damien was lying Michael! He’s one of the bad Players, of
this, I’m positive! Even when I last talked to him, he stank of
moral decay, internal confusion, sickness and wicked lies! He
looked normal and he could act like he was normal… But I could
tell that deep down the guy had completely lost the consciousplot! That he was, as Roger would describe his personality, so
warped and twisted ugly by primal evil… he’s nothing now, but
conscious scum floating upon the darkened spiritual waters
interned
within
the
witch’s-universal-World/lifeevent/circumstance-churning, universal-UE-fating-mold-brew… Any
good conscious life force spirit that once resided within him,
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
253
if it ever resided there at all, has long since been lost to the
forces of spiritual dreaming death.’
‘The army accepted him?’
‘The army can’t see what I can now see, shining in people’s
pupils… like the dark spiritual hell-fire that dissolved the
tramp
Jack
Riley
beyond
recognition
in
the
underground
jailhouse… You know even the best coroners are stumped by those
human remains. All they have done is slap the evasive label
spontaneous human combustion on the case. But two cases of
spontaneous human combustion occurring within a few days, and so
close to one another, and surrounding a bunch of other murders…
as if in the process of the first alien murder Roger worked out
how to cause this spontaneous human combustion?
‘I’ll tell you one thing though for sure, that Damien would
not be so confused if he was to view the alien Human Reason
Victim remains, this I all but guarantee! And that guy with no
medical knowledge either!
‘…You remember the High/Jack/ed Riley, don’t you Michael,
his amputated arm lying on the wrong side of those holding-cellbars! And I’m telling you rite now, I saw internal madness
betrayed in Damien’s eyes. IT let’s me know he saw something of
IT firsthand, and only World/life event/circumstance is required
too unearth IT from his unconscious mind!
‘You don’t think Roger was sent out to form deeply personal
relationships with these people, for nothing, but random chance?
I can all but guarantee the Postmescic mind God does not waste
time
on
World/life
event/circumstances,
without
first
foreseeing,
and
then
having
self-significant
long-term
opportunity in mind? And these so-called regular army guys are
about to send Damien into the fucking Vietnam War, for
Postmescic-mind-God’s sake?
‘You know what the last thing Damien said to me was, as he
sat there on his neatly made bed you could bounce a quarter off
of, and Damien shaking his head in confusion? I quote…
‘Roger, the crazy lunatic. He finally went and did IT to
her! Back over even still operational RO-woe, I always feared
Roger would do something stupid. I told myself I was been
paranoid! But Inora mind God, when Roger gets going, he really
goes all the way, doesn’t he, like some machine gone screwy!
Inora mind God, what Roger finally went and did to that old
battle-axe defies all conscious logic and belief…
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
254
‘Then he grinned, as if in his mind IT did not defy belief
at all, but rather he was… encouraged… And the way he said Inora
mind God… I’m sure he once started out using such expressions as
a way of mocking people… Maybe to mock the Saint… Maybe to mock
the Killian Schull essay homework and what Pete Davie wrote
after IT… But by now he has done something to his mind… He uses
such expressions and words Roger invented, without even thinking
about it… or without any conscious motivation such as wishing to
mock people such as Roger or the Saint… Then there are these
rumors to consider, about what went down between Roger and
Damien in Lee’s barn?’
Michael raised his hand. ‘Just like the FBI, the army’s got
a tough screening process to weed out the nutcases. It’s not as
if Damien was abruptly drafted in with hundreds of others, and
given a short period of self-training to be nothing but a common
dirt soldier. This guy was in college before he dropped out.
That means he’s officer material, a what… Yah, he is a cadet in
the infantry officer basic course in Virginia. That’s no joke.
Damien will be self-taught real discipline and correct thinking
before he is through there.’
‘O yah, that’ll be great for the guy who always hated
authority figures, and caused so much disruption his first year
back over even still operational RO-woe, until he inexplicably
went all quiet… I wonder why… The guy who was known to go on and
on as if for time without end about how he danced to no-bodies,
no-one-else’s tune or something… IT’s all got to do with the
incident in Lee’s barn I’ll bet. He saw IT there, or at least at
a deeper level sensed IT all-outside of Roger and fully exposed,
cold universal spiritual Postmescic blueprint tomb and Reason
style!’ Robinson then said directly to Michael, ‘Tough screening
process? The State Police is different I suppose, given what
happened with Dobbin and Ricky King? Sure Michael, killing
people in Vietnam will help Damien for sure.’
I CAN SEE THAT SPIRITUAL MADNESS TAKING SUCH FIRM ROOT IN
CONSCIOUS-YOU, TO, MICHAEL.
‘What am I meant to do about IT?’ Michael said. ‘Anyway,
did IT ever occur to you that all your so-called insights about
this Postmescic mind God thing, are in fact all based on your
mind gone half insane… now that you know you’re dying of cancer,
and that’s all you really feel invading you…’
‘That’s a new low even for you. You betray yourself.’
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
255
‘Look Robinson! Why are you here? I can do nothing about
the army…’
‘The Graphologist’s reports came in, on the handwriting
samples. I’m doing nothing more without first having The
Post/man at my side, to help me to correctly define and act out
my counter/made-to/measures based mostly on Roger’s self-penned
CM;1, CM;2, CM;3.’
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
256
9
(IN 2-PARTS)
PART 1
(OF 2-PARTS)
‘I
got
that
report
also,’
Michael
said.
‘It
was
inconclusive.’
‘My handwriting has also self-significantly changed,’
Robinson said. ‘At any rate, though the Graphologist’s report
was inconclusive, there is one possible candidate. Maybe the
Postmescic
mind
God
adversely
affected
this
candidate’s
personality. More likely, given he sat his final RO-exams he did
the required research. He changed his handwriting only for The
Post/man letters. He only had to figure out how to do enough, so
he could later have some degree of plausible denial if he didn’t
like who eventually tracked him down. I’ve checked the records
for the RO-library. I know for sure there was at least one book
on graphology, and how to analyze a person’s handwriting, in
that RO-library.’ Robinson opened the blackened file-box. He
took out several plastic evidence-bags, containing twenty-seven
hardback notebooks and eleven diaries, 38 objects in total. He
removed a half-inch thick and slightly charred file. He tossed
it onto the desktop.
‘Richard Derek Styles was born in July 1945. Mostly people
call him Rick Styles. He was named after his brain and heart
surgeon father Derek Michael Styles. Every fact I have found out
about Richard proves he has to be The Post/man. Roger Madican
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
257
James even brought up his name during his confession of Dorothy
Philpot’s murder, in a way that suggests that Roger considers
Styles a very important player in Roger’s mortal World/life rite
history, maybe even PP:FCIC-made-with-IG-style.
‘After Styles completed his first school year in RO, he was
considered so intelligent, and self-learned, he was moved
forward two RO-school years. Those hardback notebooks and
diaries belonged to his father Derek. The hardback notebooks are
filled with philosophies that amount to, I estimate, seventy
thousand carefully chosen words. Dorothy Philpot got her hands
on these notebooks and dairies. She was interested enough in
them to keep them in her own/ed home. In the RO-records, I found
an official request made by this Richard Styles, for his father
Derek’s work to be handed back to him. This request was
submitted twice… during Styles’ first, and then during his final
school year in RO. Richard states in this request that after he
was first found after his father Derek died of a heart attack,
the notebooks and diaries were taken from him. In protest, he
broke out of legal custody. He later allowed himself to be
caught. He states in this request, the arresting officer
promised Richard that Richard would get his father Derek’s work,
once he was settled into his new officially recognized state
residence. The authorities recorded this work as having been
sent on to RO. Yet Dorothy Philpot reported this work lost in
transit.
‘Dorothy’s response to Richard’s second request, was to
inform Richard his father Derek’s work had been lost for over
three years. She reminded him he was a man now. He should
therefore not look back, because looking back was not healthy.
Richard actually managed to contact the officer who made the
promise to him concerning the father Derek’s work. The officer
was angry and hurt. He claimed he had done his very best to
ensure the notebooks and dairies were well packaged, and clearly
marked as very personal and important property, to be returned
to Richard as soon as possible. The officer could not do
anything for Richard, other than to express his deep sorrow for
failing Richard, despite his solemn promise all those years ago.
‘Despicable as this is, this time Dorothy Philpot’s
penchant for doing evil, and trying to stop all new thinking,
other than what was taught in RO about World/life, now works to
our advantage. This Richard Styles writes a lot like his father
Derek once did, in regard to how Richard does, and Derek used to
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
258
think. More importantly, I am convinced Richard’s father somehow
found a way to consciously face down the UE in a dream. Then he
was prematurely self-judged by this instinctive memory of a
Postmescic-mind-God on his World/life history, many months if
not years prior to his actual mortal death. This should have
given Derek conscious knowledge of all so hellish evil spiritual
laws-UE is the sum of. That as such, allows UE to pass such
World/life history-shattering self-judgments on sinners at the
end of a World/life, and also during a World/life when UE
conspires to control and create evil human history. Only Derek
Styles was left too traumatized and confused as an independent
conscious life force spirit to work out the truth of those
spiritual laws-that basically run hell… That was in fact what he
spent the rest of his adult World/life trying to do… Work out
how to relate those evil spiritual laws to every day World/life,
terminology and definitions, because the UE is out to use the
evil spiritual laws it is the sum of, in order to control the
drama of everyday human World/life, in order to trick humans
into complete self-destruction of some form… such as starting
wars and such, so the Postmescic-mind-God might then evolve that
bit more out of the evil energy generated.
‘All of The Post/man’s ideas smack of a more self-evolved
form of Derek Styles’ original ideas. Derek Styles developed his
ideas when he and Richard were both on the run together from the
representatives of the so-called man made law of this land. They
were traveling all over the Country, and both of them using
phony names… Or you might say…
‘ACTOR/SALESMAN/SELF-HANGED MAN/STAGE-NAMES.
‘Unfortunately, Dorothy Philpot tore out some of the pages
from the notebooks. I have yet to locate them. My guess is she
destroyed them. Yet again the age old patterns of evil so
mindlessly repeated…’
‘And why have I never heard…’ Michael began.
‘I broke into her house. I returned time and time again to
research the place,’ said Robinson. ‘I’m not apologizing for
anything I do when IT comes to that old battleaxe.’
Michael chuckled. ‘I always told you what she really was.’
Robinson then gave an account of the car accident the
drunken Derek Styles had caused. This accident had resulted in
the death of Derek’s wife, Ann Styles, and the deaths of two
pedestrians, a baby and a father. ‘I did some checking on the
story concerning Roger’s alien birth told by Theresa James just
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
259
after her cancerous tumors were removed. Guess whom the
operating surgeon was, who offered his services to Theresa for
free? Derek Styles! Coincidence?’ Robinson grimaced. ‘I would
like to believe Derek Styles was a sensitive man. He had a pure
conscious life force spirit. He began drinking because he got
the truth all in reverse. He believed there was something wrong
with him because he couldn’t comfortably fit into World/life
society and take drama seriously. Rather than the actual truth,
which was that there was something very much wrong with
World/life society, any good man would have to repel from, and
wish to have nothing to do with. Perhaps he imagined he was shy,
or lacked self-belief, or got board easily with people, or was
himself boring? Perhaps this is why he studied so hard his whole
World/life to become a physical healer of humanity at large… He
couldn’t handle everyday reality of real World/life as IT is in
a UE-human pawn run World/life… He then had nothing better to do
with his time…
‘Unfortunately, when he no longer had his long hours of
study to focus upon, Derek started to drink heavily when he was
a young doctor. It became a crutch and an outlet for stress,
caused by his great confusion. It was too late then when he was
an alcoholic, and his drinking had resulted in three people left
dead. This end result car crash was so horrific he repelled in
truest self-horror… He then tried to become a self spiritualhealer and through the too-same process, work out how to
spiritually heal the rest of the human World/life… I feel these
details betray a lot of universal truth that can help us in our
goals. Yet it is a truth I have yet to fully work out as a
conscious mind… But is a truth buried deep within me waiting to
one-day surface… I will succeed in getting to that truth… You
can count on that, if you now want to count on anything at all…
‘Certainly, this is the case, if his son Richard’s
character is any reflection of the father Derek’s character. In
RO, Richard Styles ended up with the nickname FUNKY, because…
‘FOR MANY A YEAR WE COULDN’T DECIDE, AND SO IN OUR YOUTHFUL
IGNORANCE, WE SIMPLY CALLED HIM COOL. NOW WE KNOW HE IS A FUNKY
YELLOW COWARD, TOO SCARED, AND TOO STUPID, TO HANDLE REAL
WORLD/LIFE!’
‘Richard’s RO-file is semi-burnt?’ Michael said. ‘This is
too easy and coincidental! I saw you pull a mere six boxes out
of that burning hall back over the abandoned RO. Now, you tell
me Richard Styles’ file was in one of these boxes? The
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
260
Postmescic mind God has cut down your workload for you. IT wants
you to find him. You call that luck? Yet you tell me evil was
using me, when I tried to help those ex-RO-orphans out? Yet you
think what then about yourself? IT does anything to aid your
conscious-agenda, without having IT’s own/ed private unconscious
agenda? What’d you say about the old man Derek Styles operating
on Theresa James? Look at what happened to Derek? Who says IT
was not Theresa who first put the notion of drinking into
Derek’s mind? Whose says Theresa didn’t give Derek the first
bottle of her homemade moon/shine as way of a thank you for the
free operation? What was really in that operating room with
Derek? What was he really operating for? What was he really
removing from Theresa, cancerous growths, or something IT grew
that once in his hands or close to his body somehow changed his
very conscious relationship with his own/ed UE? If not somehow
altogether altering the very character and way of functioning of
his very own/ed UE, somehow drawing his UE out, or giving his UE
extra power? Or, I don’t know, doing something to the very
structure of his mind or physical makeup? Until he ended up
causing that car crash, or IT even affecting his heart as much
as August’s heart was effected?’
‘And you said no risk, no gain. Anyway, I don’t care,’ said
Robinson. ‘You think I want any more dealings with the type of
fucking idiots I’ve been forced to deal with? I can’t even see
my own/ed tomorrow, let alone forthcoming years… As far as I
know, IT could just be trying to warp my view of The Post/man.
‘Anyway, three good Players have to fail, if all are to
fail… All I know for sure, is that after the unholy horror that
was that car crash, Derek Styles was driven by self-horror to go
in a completely different World/life direction, in regards to
how he lived his World/life up until that crash… He sobered up.
He seemed to no longer care what he faced, as long as he could
figure out a way to self-redeem himself from what monster
society had somehow self-tricked him into temporarily becoming?
He worked as hard as he once had to become a surgeon? Only this
time he was out to become a surgeon of the spirit, not the
physical body? Simultaneously, he self-trained, self-prepared,
self-educated, self-styled his only son Richard to think
correctly… So the RO-Culture system wouldn’t be brainwashed into
his only surviving legacy. He knew, you see, what type of logic
floods society, all concepts worshipped by humanity more than
human World/life?’
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
261
‘You know where this Styles is now?’ Michael asked quietly.
‘I should have been a mind reader,’ said Robinson.
‘O yah,’ said Michael. ‘So you do know?’
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
262
PART 2
(OF 2-PARTS)
‘Get this Michael. Richard Styles is one of us already.
He’s a cop up in Richmond. He’s famous as the cop who never
draws his gun, for he hates guns… Instead he has become an
expert at disarming criminals and slapping the handcuffs on… and
ensuring the criminal is all tied up so he can be safely taken
off… He’s ready to take a bullet but not fire back a bullet…
Thus he and his handcuffs are famous up there…
‘I had Patrick Watkins ask around law enforcement circles.
And if that’s not enough for you, wait till you hear what this
guy does best as a cop. Patrick Watkins was told Styles is a
real strange fish. He puts himself in for a lot of under/cover
work. He gets good results too. He’s already been decorated
twice for his under/cover work. Twice Michael, and he hardly in
the door up there! He has devoted his whole World/life to his
job, just like his father Derek used to do.
‘Apparently, he carefully studies files and profiles on
criminal after criminal. He then handpicks which criminals he
wishes to let into his World/life… I’m told he’s the kind of guy
that when you see him around, you figure he’s one kind of guy.
As soon as you meet him up close and personal, he self-convinces
you he is another kind of guy. When he’s working under/cover, he
convinces the bad guys he’s another kind of guy. This most
particular World/life situation somehow extents to everything he
is connected to. Who then, can say who he really is, other than
that he is like some ghost-constantly changing as his World/life
environment changes… And he is constantly on the move from one
World/life crime scene and case to the next. He never puts down
any sort of roots, either, socially or mentally. Like the sun in
constant orbit, he is on the constant earthly move from one new
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
263
World/life situation and experience to the next that yet is
self-created in some way and to a large degree?
‘Ghost, actor, salesman… who can say… perhaps all three…
‘Apparently, when reading paper reports, it looks like he
takes very dangerous and reckless risks with his person, during
his under/cover work. Yet if you check out the actual facts, and
closely question the officers who back him up, you’ll find he’s
a very careful man indeed. He never takes unnecessary risks. He
tries to ensure he and the armed officers who back him up, exert
as
tight
a
control
as
possible
over
all
World/life
event/circumstances, IT sends his way to test him and to break
his conscious life force spirit… almost as if he fears
World/life event/circumstances themselves, as much as he would
the most dangerous criminal he’s out to first hoodwink through
his under/cover work and then legally bust according to the socalled man made laws of this most particular land.
‘Only on his last case has he been in genuine danger and
his World/life on the verge of being snuffed out in some closed
bar. And this was only the case because genuine contract killers
were involved. He gives the impression of impulsiveness and
recklessness. Yet, if you carefully study what he is doing, you
see only deliberate calculation. As such, up in Richmond, no one
really seems to know him that well.
‘Yet, we both know why he could have such intimate
knowledge of evil, and mindless destruction, that he can apply a
cold and precise conscious logic to explain at least to himself,
how there is actually very precise form and purpose, an actual
math and science if you will, to what other less experienced
cops would see as the uncertain chaos of crime. Like a detached
conscious witness to a true World/life horror show then… Who
understands the larger picture, and something that goes much
deeper throughout us all?
‘Of course it could just as easily be that all those years
ago out on road with his father Derek, he learnt something about
the streets and traveling around on the constant so earthly
move… Or about making the self look like he’s from the streets…
Or was once a runaway kid who got lost in the streets, and grew
up in the streets.
‘But I need to get to him so I can try to find out for
myself, if I can use him. And if he’s really the divined gameplaying man I’m looking for!’
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
264
‘The unknown and so mysterious Post/man identity? This guy
could be nuts, a true lost soul who doesn’t even know who he
really is… Look,’ Michael said. ‘Just lay your cards on the
table. What exactly is it you want from me? This is the first I
have ever heard of this guy. I was rite there when the media
were howling for answers back in August-1964. I didn’t see any
stranger stepping out of the crowds to enlighten them, and to
warn them about the universal Postmescic truth behind the
façade, that is the human Roger Madican James?’
‘And what exactly have we told anyone since August-1964?’
Robinson asked. ‘Weren’t even all my letters to the media
totally dismissed and ignored by the media, if not laughed at by
evil people giving a leer? I’m counting on the fact that The
Post/man knew Roger lived with me during the summer of 1959. He
set me up Michael, so I’d have no choice but to eventually find
my way back to helping him, not vice versa. So maybe I’m the
jackass, making this Styles guy out to be more than he actually
is in my own/ed mind alone? But I have been doing studies in my
spare time.
‘As
you
know
I’ve
started
to
write
my
complete
autobiography. You know I first look to the extreme end results
of evil… and then try to work my way back into every day society
where the too-same evil traits are being consciously cultivated,
only
in
socially
acceptable
ways…
the
so-called
best
fashions/rage of the day. A UE of a standard design in each and
every unconscious human mind, means there has to be direct links
that can be found between Roger and common murderers… So I
propose this… To some degree I want to study firsthand,
murderers, criminals, self-corrupted humans, and very corrupt
World/life social patterns… and contrast those results with the
results gleaned from studying saints. After all, why would
anyone born good and content PP:FCIC-made-with-IG-style, wish to
end up self-corrupt and self-tormented and suffering as the
damned DCC-made-with-UE-style? Why would anyone wish to serve
the Postmescic-mind-God-remaking-purpose, at such truly enormous
personal cost, and for no long term gain whatsoever? Why would
anyone want to go to hell over heaven, self-named spiritual
extinction over spiritual evolution?’
‘Now, you’re not talking about Richard Styles any more, but
about funding the beginning of what is to lead to that special
project?’ Michael said.
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
265
‘I am!’ Robinson fixed his steady gaze on Michael. ‘Just a
simple… Let’s say we could call it, a simple little social study
program. Like I said, I want to study the extreme end results of
unconscious evil, and unconscious good, in, and on, people… the
murderers and Hitler’s and saint’s and Christ’s… then work my
way back to everyday people, and common World/life social
patterns. A very simple request, so I’ll have some hope of
dealing with Roger when he finally shows up…
‘And Postmescic-Roger will show up again Michael, any day
now, because the damnation game’s only just begun!
‘Now, I don’t know what exactly will be required, so I can
wait a while before I ask you to do anything more drastic. But
for the time being, I am not asking you to go to the Director or
the Attorney General!’
‘Damned rite you’re not!’
‘Come on Michael… You know full well, before I came here
today, I’d have thought this out, and have then, already
researched the FBI!’
‘O Inora mind God,’ Michael sighed. ‘No wonder you were
talking about me being an actor/salesman a while ago. You expect
me to sell whatever you are concocting, in that crazy-head of
yours, to some important people on your behalf, while you lurk
behind the World/life scenes watching us all…
‘GIVEN
ENOUGH
SYMBOLIC
ROPE
TO
HANG-OURSELVES
WITH
SPIRITUALLY, AND HANG OUR ROTTEN-RO-HEARTS WITH, AND TO BETRAY
THE TYPE OF EVIL-INSPIRED DELUSIONS/FASIONS/THE RAGE OF THE DAY
WE ARE ALL OPERATING UNDER…
‘…On your behalf.’
‘For the moment,’ Robinson said. ‘All I can count on, is
that the Director doesn’t want to know the specifics of every
program under his command. There are simply too many programs
for one person to oversee. Am I rite?’
‘True,’ Michael relented.
‘So all I’m asking for, for the moment, is a few special
agents to help me… and access to incarcerated murderers who I
will want to personally interview. For example, I wish to be
given priority access to guys such as the chief executive of the
national association of ex-offenders… who is to be told I come
first in return for favors. And I want a list of the names and
the current addresses of all ex-RO-orphans, beginning with, but
not limited to, the years 1959 to 1964. I want all the ROcommittee reports that attempt to document how the RO-orphans
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
266
really treated Roger back over even still operational RO, and
talked about him behind his back… for such information is what
will allow me to work out what type of DCC-made-with-UE formed
in conscious-Roger… and I should then be expected to deal with…
At least the superficial excuse the UE/Postmescic used to get
into his conscious mind, in the guise of IT been the expected
response to Roger having lived the freak show so traumatic
World/life history he did live.
‘I also then want to be made a genuine special agent of the
FBI. I can then be awarded the subsequent jurisdiction, legal
rites, and all powers those credentials allow me. In fact, I
want the title AGENT SUPERVISOR. Starting as soon as possible, I
am going to require at least two agents directly under my
command… and whom I won’t have to take any bull from, and who
will follow my every order. I want to put Richard Styles under
surveillance, until I can figure out how to approach him, or if
I should approach him at all with what I do know?
‘This means I will want to bug most of his private
conversations. I will put the majority of his activities under
close and tight surveillance… But only where his present
dangerous under/cover work will not be jeopardized, and the men
he has protecting him cannot spot me.
‘Like I mentioned, it is my knowledge this guy has just
finished a case where he dealt with some very dangerous
criminals. If his past work record is anything to go by, he is
gradually taking more and more risks in regard to constantly
pushing the boundaries… where each time he busts criminals, they
turn out to be even worse than the previous bunch. As such his
next World/life assignment on the streets should be with even
more dangerous men, if his track work record is anything to go
by. If nothing concrete comes of my work, then fine, I will
forget all about IT. Fact is I could wake up dead in my bed
tomorrow morning. You then won’t owe me a damn thing. Not even a
nickel to help pay for my coffin. But only as long as you offer
your help to me today.
‘But Michael… Know this, if I do stand the test of this
World/life time long enough to develop this file-R.I.P./unedit
blueprint of mine…’
‘We can talk about that when that day comes, if it ever
does!’ Michael said sternly. He indicated that deep down he
really wanted to help his best, and by this day, only true pal.
‘But what you’re presently asking…’
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
267
Robinson interrupted… ‘Just like you Michael, I also
studied accounting and law at college. Like you, I was also a
Kappa Alpha man with conservative views, and an Irish American
to boot. If it wasn’t for your uncle already well-placed in the
FBI, I would fit the profile of the type of agent Hoover likes,
as well as you do!’
‘Give me time to let this sink in, and for me to carefully
consider and weigh my options,’ Michael said. ‘How am I expected
to make you? You know a potential agent will have to be sent up
to the Academy to be schooled for fourteen weeks in proper
procedures in law violations that come under FBI Jurisdiction,
interviewing techniques, self-defense tactics… It’s a physically
tough…’ Michael began with pride, for he had long since gone
through it all and wished to impress and feel important.
‘That’s rite Michael. I’m not playing the game with a full
deck… I fully intended to go up to the Academy in my state of
physical health? Who you been talking to, Lisa?
‘No! I intend for you to send someone real good up there,
who knows the drill well enough to impress everyone while been
self-trained, self-prepared, self-educated, self-fashioned and
then sworn in, in my place, and on my behalf, and bearing my
name.’
‘I had already realized that,’ Michael appeared sick when
he took in the physical state of the deteriorated Robinson. ‘But
yet…’
‘I’m staying at the May/flower. I’m resting up until
further notice. You can then have the time to work out how it
can all be done and pulled off behind my back. Like I said,
file-R.I.P./unedit is my job… but when it comes to everything
else, I don’t intend to waste any of my time…’ Robinson handed
over a May/flower greeting/advertisement card on which was
written his hotel room number. Upon first entering his hotel
room, Robinson had found the card on his pillow on his bed.
Michael looked flushed. ‘The hotel is best. But remember
Robinson… if I give you what you want, and let’s face it, you
want me to break the law…’
‘What so-called man-made law is there, but my law, in this
universal state of emergency, no one but a handful knows about?’
‘If you want Richard Styles, no less than a highly
decorated under/cover agent, put under surveillance… there’s no
judge in the country who will authorize wire taps and bugs
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
268
without us first showing due cause! And especially so for a
fellow lawman!’
‘I’ll bet you guys do it all the time.’
‘I’m not going to waste my time arguing with you Robinson!
I just want you to know, that if, and it’s a big IF, I decide to
set you up with some insignificant covert social study program!’
Michael grimaced at the self-mocking term… SOCIAL STUDY PROGRAM.
Robinson didn’t blame him. The so-called social study program
would surely give rise to some future Postmescic-mind-God awful
insane nightmare hell on Earth, given Robinson was selfdetermined not to ever end up like Michael. Michael felt too
confused and so too powerless to take major and most drastic
bloody World/life action. ‘…Of your own/ed, and redirect
manpower from other operations to help you in your tasks… even
if it is too small to be noticed by the Director… I will never,
and I repeat, never, ever personally go back out into the field
with you… if you are either in the process of just about to
locate Roger Madican James… or even if you are dealing with one
of Roger’s unnaturally interfered-with… Human Reason Victims, or
one of his…’ Michael swallowed dryly. ‘Whatever in the
State/mind Postmescic/Embodiment-hell Dobbin was to PostmescicRoger?’
‘Sold,’ said Robinson. ‘And evidently, Dobbin was also an
agent, Michael, a human agent of Postmescic darkness. Just you
remember first and foremost Michael… My business is now all
about working out my ACTOR/SALESMAN’S/RULES OF ENGAGEMENT and
CONDUCT ROUTINE and BRAND NEW, NEW NEWS MAN-MADE LAWS REQUIRED
TO DEAL WITH THIS STATE OF UNIVERSAL EMERGENCY!
‘And they will be the least of the rules of engagement and
conduct and new, news man-made laws I’m going to have to work
out, so just make everything else go as easy for me as you can!’
‘And don’t you ever forget,’ Michael said. ‘You think now,
there’s just going to be a few self-haunted ghosts, limited to
the belief they have a shot of becoming the conscious crown nut
job, that can rise the Postmescic mind God on up and into the
Inora/Enagma? Give me a break. You said it yourself Robinson…
‘Six players, and all human, and all fully mortally and
physically alive. You think the chief bad guy out to represent
the Postmescic mind God, is going to be any mere hapless, and
ignorant mass murderer, and rapist, and baby killer… You’ve got
another thing coming entirely. And he won’t be all nicely locked
up behind bars, for you to simply interview, either. He’ll be
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
269
coming at you, out of nowhere. Given what runs this IT’s true
World/life horror show, he’ll have a mind far superior to our
own/ed. You can forget about half witted basket cases like
Charles Edward Damien been the chief bad man here.
‘I know so… because I didn’t once turn tail and run out on
you for no good cause! I know the real bad guy is soon coming.
He’ll make even Roger Madican James look like a bad joke,
because he’s out, not just to represent the Postmescic mind God.
He’ll have to be out to become the Postmescic mind God identity
incarnate. Yet we both know, even conscious-Roger can’t, and
doesn’t know how to live with, or objectively control the
Postmescic mind God. That’s why conscious Roger’s is always
screaming and roaring and carrying on! Equally, Roger has to
take the Human Reason Victims in some way to ensure he can
temporarily become the Postmescic mind God? What then is this
chief bad man player to do, to do something similar? He has no
Reason? He’s just a standard human being? What then has he done
to his mind? And how has he done IT to his mind?
‘I’ll tell you this Robinson, anytime even the concept of
this IT’s chief bad man divined Player occurs to me, I know one
day I will die young, and in no natural way. What do you, who
think the truth is reflected in all things… and we in this
damnation game must always be aware of the truth and
consequences of all we do… make out of that?’
Robinson refused to think about this. He didn’t want to
admit he knew he had as good as just-signed his best friend’s
death warrant the moment he’d insisted Michael help him. If he
knew one thing for sure, it was that Michael was no divined good
Player. As such Michael was completely expendable to PostmescicIT’s-cause-the first moment IT thought up a good way to use
Michael to hurt, thwart, and in effect, self-corrupt Robinson,
and, or, the other two good Players.
ALL OTHER NON-DIVINED-PLAYERS AROUND YOU…
TO DIE…
ONLY YOU TO MORTALLY/PHYSICALLY SURVIVE!
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
270
10
(IN 6-PARTS)
PART 1
(OF 6-PARTS)
August-9TH–1964 master safety pins was suspended in his
unhallowed grave outside Harvey Jammer’s flaming gas station. He
felt as if he was floating and trapped within his own/ed master
safety pins spiritual web… Till suddenly, starved of oxygen, and
already in a coma, mortal-death struck. There was a jolt. Then
there was a heave. The spiritual web holding his mind suspended,
snapped. He was falling to a much worse place.
HE was but a dream… HE was a dirty and smoke-damaged skull
unearthed from dissolving flesh. HE-skull rolled down many
cobbled stoned streets. Finally he was locked into a little hole
that
was
the
central
core
of
the
State/mind
Postmescic/Embodiment dream World/life. This was not hell
itself, but rather a place that floated directly above hell.
Here, the damned constantly, and repetitiously, reenacted their
mortal World/live histories as they looked to find the fault in
the World/life-judgment that had secured them down here.
HE was rooted in the very core of HIS flux and constantly
changing dream World/life, as securely as one of the teeth still
rooted in HIS fleshless jawbone. Dreams spiralled all around him
trying to self-entertain HIM. Lost humans walked around in
decayed visions of the World/life they had died in. Significant
cities and landmarks from ancient Rome, to the Egyptian
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
271
Pyramids, to present day New York City, and the Washington
Capital, were all heaped and blurred together like slanted and
askew reflections of what had once been a steadfast reality for
so many of the occupants.
The damned here could not face their souls had been left in
ruin due to their own/ed delusional World/life-decisions-that
had resulted in no real personal gain whatsoever. Also the
damned could not face the human age and society that had
seemingly resulted in the ruin of their once truly immortal
souls was long dead and gone from the present day Earth. The
real Earth had long since advanced relentlessly on to support
entirely
new
civilizations
and
cultures
and
belief
systems/fashions/the rages of the day and cities and monuments.
This illusionary World/life environment was constantly
fighting to reshape itself. One past age surfaced. Another more
ancient age retreated and sank back into the unseen State/mind
Postmescic/Embodiment depths/murk.
Like a stench rising from HIS rotted earthly remains, HIS
true spirit was in every particle, in every brick and stone in
every street. HE alone understood the damned humans needed to
see this decayed human World/life reflected back at them. This
way they could feel they’d never had a choice in World/life, in
regard to who they had become that had ensured they’d eventually
ended up here. The foundations supporting all of this were not
solid. They were flux. The foundations were in fact one
State/mind Postmescic/Embodiment Spiritual Black Ocean. IT was
more vast and deep than all oceans on Mother Earth combined. The
damned were lost in the rising, falling and drifting ghostly
waves. At some point the waves crashed against a desolate rocky
shoreline where no light shone.
This rocky shoreline was made up of immortal-soul-dustparticles. Through generating inner-conflict, the churning
black-ocean and strong tides gradually and steadily stole these
soul particles from the damned. Like foam, the soul particles
then rose up to the surface of the waves. The waves carried them
through the tides to wash up upon and to amass on the shoreline.
Like layers of ocean built upon layers, each human age
supported the next age. One age stole too closely past another
age, like two ancient ships just missing each other in the dead
of the night. This caused an unnatural ripple in the currents.
This unintended inner-conflict resulted in some of the damned
becoming self-aware. They then begin to self-question the human
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
272
age they had physically died in, and the fashion/rage of the day
they had died spiritually for. Spiritual dust was surged up and
out of the sea. IT rose then into the flux cities representing
various different human ages. Suddenly humans walked as corpses
through the Postmescic mind God’s self-spun/self-interpretation
of the human World/life they had died in.
With the dreamed World/life constantly reflecting back at
them the reality they remembered as representing the truth of
World/life as they had once known IT, they soon began to fall
back into the delusional UE-reinforced belief that only the
Postmescic could be the true God of such a violent and chaotic
universe. They then let themselves become instruments for the
universal spiritual death beat will of the great and sole
Postmescic-mind-God of all of mortality. For IT was both the
soul and engine of/and the universal creator of all works or
mortality.
They sank back down. They were submerged into the murky
black ocean depths in proper place and time. The tides lulled
them back into sleep. The tides tried to ensure a lesser chance
of they being again woken from the forces of spiritual dreaming
death that presently claimed them.
The interpretation of teeth was rooted in HIS jester’s
jawbone. HE had gums and lips to disguise HIS laughing skull.
Above the State/mind Postmescic/Embodiment, and center stage the
flux cities, Roger Madican James was laughing as the Embodiment
court jester. Though the ignorant ghostly audience didn’t know
exactly why they were laughing, HIS audience did laugh at the
antics of a nonsensical prankster. HE seemingly reflected the
absurdity of World/life, through HIS absurd comic’s actions and
comments. Yet
Roger knew the society and cultures and
fashions/rages of the day his audience had lived through, were
so long gone, by this present day the audience were as dead as a
corpse even a starving dog would turn his nose up at.
Out on Mother Earth, strange things self-occurred in old
and dusty ruins. An archaeologist was sensitive enough to hear
the sound of self-haunting ghostly laughter. He envisioned an
audience of ghosts. They were jeering at the absurdity of the
antics of a grinning Postmescic mind God jester gesturing fool,
dancing before them and somehow self-parodying each and every
human age simultaneously through a single performance. On and on
this most particular fool danced under the glow of the crude and
dissolving candles made of animal fat, HE wore around HIS giant
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
273
feathery hat that resembled a cock’s comb. This way HE alone was
spotlighted within the cold spiritual Postmescic universal
blueprint tomb dark. The archaeologist was so sensitive he
understood the fear he felt, in reaction to he feeling so selfhaunted, really betrayed that the real emotion motivating the
audience to laugh, was not contempt, but fear. Just as people
imprisoned by an evil tyrant, and who had no way out, could ever
only know fear.
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
274
PART 2
(OF 6-PARTS)
He was running a hot bath. Due to the steam rising from the
hot water, the bathroom mirror had fogged up. Robinson stood
before this mirror as if still staring at his so very naked
human
reflection
he
could
no
longer
see
through
the
condensation.
For the first time in his World/life, he was a skinny man.
His rib and hipbones clearly protruded. His ugly and sickening
tumors had spread to his chest wall. There, they formed a
visible lump. When growing up, he had often thought skinny kids
looked so weak, a feeble push from him the Jolly Green Giant
would blow him or her over. Today, he had no other choice but to
face he had always had the exact same type of feeble skeleton
supporting him. Only fat and height had allowed him to imagine
more solid bones. He was now just a gaunt and lanky man. He was
incapable of intimidating anyone anymore. He was an utter
stranger, even to his own/ed view of his own/ed so very earthly
self.
These days when he sat down and folded his arms, he was
instantly aware of his hard chest bone, and the hardness under
his armpits, no longer cushioned by fat. No matter where he put
his hands these days, his body was hard and virtually fatless.
He used a facecloth to clear away some of the condensation
fogging up the mirror. Pain and weakness raged through him. IT
felt like piercing ghost-knifes attacking him only his brain
could interpret the presence of. IT felt as if the self-haunting
ghostly pain penetrated even his bone marrow. His misty
reflection doubled over in agony. Yet he was still looking back
at his reflection, as if regarding a pitiful and pathetic
stranger from a Nazi Germany concentration camp. IT was not
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
275
Robinson. IT was the pathetic stranger who was then heading for
the bathroom floor. Unprepared for his fall, when finally he
struck the bathroom tiles, Robinson, even still in conscious
denial, was hurt twice as badly as he should have been. Just
like a rider who refused to self-prepare for a fall from a
bucking stallion, such as Dorothy Philpot had criticized the
rider in his sculpture back in May of 1945.
‘Inora mind God! What is the point?’ He cried out in agony.
He clutched his aching body. He felt it was a cursing corpse
that had gripped hold of him. The cold bathroom tiles contrasted
with his feverish skin-covered in sweat. Due to the steam still
rising from the bath, the mirror above had already fogged back
up his handprints once more.
‘George? George?’ Lisa called from outside the locked
bathroom door. She had heard the loud thump of a grown man
falling to the ground. Lisa began to knock so hard, the cheap
wood door vibrated in its frame. ‘George? Are you all rite?’
Lisa tried to sound stern. Yet he could hear the panic in her
voice fighting to consume her. He felt guilty and stupid forever
having dared to fear that Lisa was in danger of having to face
terrible things in the next-World/life, due to Lisa consciously
cultivating her primal-UE-mind-inspired-hate/revenge-drive in
this World/life.
Lisa was rite to be full of panic. Her husband was
finished. He gasped for breath. He didn’t have the physical or
mental strength to rise. He whined internally. He had never felt
so afraid this was IT. The end was finally upon him, and
everything still left unresolved.
‘But August still lives!’ he grasped through gritted teeth.
He felt full of guilt. For a brief moment he had wished that his
daughter August would die instead of him.
Lisa tried the door handle. She discovered the door
securely locked. The key was turned sideways in the keyhole.
‘George! George!’
He was to die naked, stretched out before a toilet, and
lying next to a bath of steaming water he’d never gotten the
chance to use to wash his so very human body. Roger Madican
James was known to break his promises? Unless the promise had
regarded Keith Anderson in the underground jailhouse not dying
before the other tramp occupant Jack Riley prior others arriving
into the World/life scene, then Roger had lied when he’d told
Keith he’d be the last to die that August-day in the underground
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
276
jailhouse? In truth, Keith had been one of the first to die that
August-1964-day? Roger had even used the expression selfswindling,
deal
making,
damned,
too,
too-mortal-fool/UEbuilding-block-conscious-tool humans in his Killian Schull essay
homework, as if a warning to any readers… No doubt this business
about August dying before Robinson was also another lie.
So why would Robinson ever even think in terms of making
deals with Roger, unless Robinson was a damned conscious-fool
too, simply refusing to accept reality for what IT really was?
He closed his eyelids. It felt as if wild-animals were
tearing at his body, while an unseen evil laughed in glee. He
thought of the deer he had killed. After the first bullet
struck, the wounded deer appeared to accept its fate as the
natural order. It lay down. It waited until he walked up to put
the second bullet in its heart, so he could then keep the
unspoiled head as his trophy up on his Sheriff’s head office
wall. Now he knew the deer had not accepted anything as the
natural order of things. The traumatized deer had been in shock.
He hated himself for shooting that deer, rather than he simply
sculpting it.
Wheezing, and refusing to give up, he forced himself to his
knees. His knees felt as if they’d been shattered by a
sledgehammer. He could only laugh in self-frustration. This was
IT’s alien cancer IT had given him? So even the pain could be an
alien pain? He was too consciously ignorant on the subject of
cancer to know any better in regard to what was what, and what
really self-signified what? He couldn’t even be sure if he was
really dying?
‘George? Are you laughing at me? Is this a joke?’
Again he could only laugh in self-frustration. Then,
knowing a brief moment of rage, he shouted, ‘I’m dying! Just
like that dumb deer, whose perfect head with antlers is up on my
Sheriff’s head office wall!’
He had to work hard just to unlock the bathroom door.
He half fell, and half crawled into the invading cool air
that managed to disperse some of the bathroom mist.
‘George! What’s the matter?’ Lisa cried in alarm. Yet, he
could see the contempt gleaming in her eyes. He’d been a
conscious-fool yet again… Lisa had her own/ed World/life. Her
moods often changed. But this did not change the fact she had
once chosen to willfully accepted the primal evil drive to
destroy him. She had chosen to consciously cultivate this evil
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
277
drive time and time again. As such, no matter what, she would
always revert back to that end of the line decision.
He toppled away from the warm mist. He cursed his earlier
World/life decision to remove his towel so he could inspect his
reflection. He felt like a dog down on his hands and knees. He
imagined the Postmescic mind God laughing at the want-a-be rebel
out to resolve IT all. He crawled naked and shivering in the
cold towards the master bedroom. He had never felt so flawed and
mortal. If he was going to die, then he wanted to die in his
own/ed comfortable home bed. He had stopped sleeping with Lisa.
Yet he now thought of that bed.
‘I’m calling Doctor Fairchild!’ Lisa tried to help him to
his feet.
‘Get off me!’ He shrugged her away. ‘Fairchild is no use to
me! IT’s the end!’ Again, he laughed in self-frustration.
‘The end? O God! I’m calling doctor Jorgen!’
‘You ever see doctor Jorgen in person Lisa?’ he said with
his teeth gritted against the pain. ‘She looks just like Nancy
Stuart!’ He laughed, not even bothering to explain. ‘You know
Lisa, one of the criticisms of the invention of paper and the
idea, ideas and history, stories and songs and various
knowledge’s could then be written down and recorded for all to
read… Was that people before the invention of paper, who had
such good memories that people could remember vast chunks of
spoken words, such as stories and ideas, after just a few
sittings listening to the endless talk… Would have the memory
destroyed. Sure enough people these so very modern days have
such short memories… Of course the truth was that after the
invention of paper civilization took off evolving at a rapid
rate…’
Nancy Stuart was a local girl. She was desperate to be
taken seriously. She wanted to have her opinions seen as so very
important. Yet she never had anything new, or important, or even
competent to say. Nancy Stuart went off to college to follow a
step-by-step course all laid out for her, where she simply
remembered or put a new spin on ideas, most of which had been in
the environment even before she had been born, and none of which
were her ideas. When twenty, she supervised her kid brother’s
birthday party. The parents paid for a second rate amateur
magician to entertain the little kids. Little Richard Robinson
was one such guest. Nancy looked ready to kill the part-time
magician because she so feared a good-natured card trick, would
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
278
expose her as what she would call a fool. The same UE-driven
selfishness that ensured Nancy’s ignorance, also ensured her
arrogance and continued moral bankruptcy, as she insisted on
cultivating her rotten-RO-heart identity she expected all to
respect, though she had done nothing to earn that respect,
anyone else of average intelligence would have been as equally
capable of doing. Yet even the desire for respect, and to feel
superior to others, was all down to UE? There was no ego, no
super ego, no ID, just the unconscious evil intellect, an
instinctive memory of an evil God that leant one the sensation
one was as important as a God when one served the Postmescicmind-God recreating purpose by doing harm in some way, if not to
others, then to the self?
What then would Nancy do if born in previous centuries, so
she could feel important? Accept/remember the so fashionable
wisdom/the rage of the day and way of thinking of doing things
of the day? Send Jews to the gas chambers? Become a high
priestess that worshipped a sun God by performing human
sacrifices? Accept a state of total conscious mind moral
bankruptcy defined by UE, just so she could go on feeling
important? While all good people around her, ended up damaged or
destroyed or suffered in some way as a direct result of her
behavior, and ultimately even Nancy herself was destroyed?
He no longer cared about anything but getting into the big
bed. He crawled there.
Once wrapped up in his familiar quilt and sheets, he took
the time to try to begin to face his overwhelming panic. Even
here in his master bedroom, an ugly sight waited to greet him.
Sometime earlier this year, Lisa had thought herself smart in
figuring out yet another way to get her personal propaganda
across in her attempt to control him like her UE was out to
control the direction her conscious thought patterns took, so
she would grow increasingly more self-corrupt. Lisa had erected
a wood plate on the wall. The plate was self-produced by one of
Harry Shinnick’s many manufacturing companies. Robinson knew so.
Since his conversation with Michael Riordan concerning the
Nuclear Power Plant being built down in Arizona State, Robinson
had done some research on Harry Shinnick.
The Saint had never let it be known in RO, Harry had been a
rebel in RO. He had refused to work. He had always joked around.
He had been the only graduate in his school year to get a basic
RO-diploma. Harry had started out as a lowly truck driver. He
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
279
had bought one truck, and then two. He had rented out his trucks
to shipping companies. He had built his businesses up from
nothing. By this day Harry Shinnick’s business techniques were
widely imitated by new upstarts-who usually failed because he or
she did not have the relentless driving energy Harry Shinnick
had who slept less than four hours a night. Apparently it was
said the man must have come racing out of the very womb, kicking
and screaming and fighting to get on with his World/life.
The plate’s black indented letters appeared to have been
seared into the wood by a red-hot poker. Standing proudly side
by side with these words, was a charcoal-black matchstick man.
He was swinging around an ancient lamppost. As if drunk, the
matchstick man tipped his black hat to the viewer in
appreciation of the joy he was apparently experiencing.
-MY CANDLE BURNS AT BOTH ENDS
-IT WILL NOT LAST THE NIGHT
-BUT O! MY FOES, AND O! MY FRIENDS
…IT GIVES A LOVELY LIGHT!
Rage surged into Robinson. ‘Roger, you Postmescic mind God
son of a whore…’ He passed out.
The nightmares he experienced were most horrible.
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
280
PART 3
(OF 6-PARTS)
TO STOP ME
AND TO KEEP ME SAFE FROM SIMPLY JUST BUSTING LOSE
ALL OVER THE PLACE AND ALL OVER ONE AS IF ALL…
SAFETY-PINS-MASTER/aka/SILENT-PROPAGANDA-MACHINE
HEY ROBINSON…
The true-World/life horror show was always preformed at
night so IT could remain a top RO-secret. Robinson had sneaked
onto the RO-Grounds to study D-Block yet again. He was lurking
in a dark corner. He was looking out at a dull gray concrete
yard filled with grinning RO-students. They wore immaculate gray
RO-uniforms and near black RO-blazers. The RO-students were all
huddled around a spot, where the moonlight was most illuminant.
All were chanting to Howard Bishop’s directions…
‘Safety pins! O, please show us the bleeding human meat
beneath your so clumsily self-constructed, and cheap RO-thread
and gleaming safety-pin web!’
Roger Madican James stood alone outside the D-Block toilet
doors. With his eyelids wide open, Roger watched the energetic
crowds. As if to represent Roger’s wood tombstone, the D-Block
doors had most horrible words carved into them…
MEMORIAL!!! TO R.M.J. MAY 8TH, 1945 TO … …, … WITHIN….
The words continued to spiral down.
Strangely, Roger was the only one breathing clouds of
breath. He glowed like an illuminant full moon a spotlight had
been turned on.
‘Safety pins! Safety pins! Let us see the so human meat
beneath!’ the RO-crowd began to chant in an increasingly hostile
and threatening manner. Finally then, as if in fear for his
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
281
World/life, Roger began to use a butcher’s knife to flay open
his arm. A cheer arose from the laughing RO-crowds. Roger opened
up his whole forearm. The skin and meat flaps fell away,
revealing pieces of glinting pin-metal here and there.
Roger smiled. IT really was as if he thought he was putting
on a good show for a laughing crowd who genuinely loved him. All
that Robinson could see bulging behind Roger’s taut facial skin,
was the expressionless death-skull watching the laughing crowds.
Like an unseen dead hand pealing an orange, within seconds, the
skin and flesh and nerves that made up the superficial mask of
Roger’s human face, was peeled back to the raw bone, much to the
RO-crowds amusement. Then a grinning death skull looked out at
the RO-orphans. As the skull had been throughout the performance
when masked by a human face expressing fear, this skull laughed
at what IT had reduced the RO-orphans to. The bare skull glowed
with reflected light that generated no heat. The skull looked
like a tiny moon-head with imploded craters for features. IT was
enduring and absorbing all the pain IT could have directed at
IT, in order to increase IT’s negative spiritual energy.
A laughing moon skull never changed expression.
When IT discovered an indignant Robinson was the only
audience member not amused by the true-World/life top-secret ROhorror show, and who was self-determined to save Roger Madican
James from the horror show, he felt a bony hand grasp his
shoulder. He knew IT was the same unseen hand that had pealed
the skin and flesh and nerve-endings away from Roger’s moonskull.
‘This is not for you to see!’ a worm-riddled hand began to
pull Robinson around. He was to be forced to finally face what
IT truly was. ‘You’re not welcome here! I’m afraid I’m going to
have to ask you to leave! You do not have the rite attitude! We
don’t need any troublemaker’s like you, around here, in this ROCulture top-secret sideshow! Come on now, back to the coffin in
your grave bed…
‘There, the only trouble you will be able to cause any of
us, will be the stench, and maggots, you’ll have to selfgenerate in your deteriorating coffin, like all of the dead
naturally do… You stinking, hobbling, Postmescic-mind-God-cancer
riddled corpse!’
Robinson began to turn. He noticed the dead and Reason
busted Dorothy Philpot’s corpse standing in the dark third floor
RO-corridor. The RO-school window allowed her to watch this top-
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
secret
RO-sideshow
fascination.
World/life
scene
with
282
a
cruel
self-
EVERY MORTAL AGE TO THIS STILL HERE PRESENT DAY, HAS FAILED!
AND YET, YOU DO DUALLY ACCEPT AND BELIEVE
AND LIKE TO THINK AND SAY AS IF A FACT ALREADY GAINED
THIS AGE IS ONLY MARKED DOWN BY IT
AS THE TRULY FINAL MORTAL AGE
NOT BECAUSE IT WILL SOON GIVE RISE
TO AN ALL CONSUMING BLINDING RAGE
BUT BECAUSE YOU’RE TWO FINALLY EXPOSE THE REAL TRUTH
PRIOR TO YOUR OWN/ED FATED EARTHLY GRAVE???
Just like that, and as if there was no difference between
what he dreamed, and what he experienced in waking World/life
reality anymore, Robinson was awake.
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
283
PART 4
(OF 6-PARTS)
Doctor Fairchild had finished his examination while
Robinson had been asleep. Lisa held baby August in her arms. She
was rocking August to sleep. Being the tough realist she was, in
a World/life situation such as this Lisa needed to feel she was
comforting someone other than herself. IT was just like the fact
that she always wished to punish others rather than let negative
energy hurt her. IT was just like the fact she always worshipped
unconscious intellects on the inside of her, as Gods, saviors,
angels and demons at work somewhere on the outside of her. IT
was just like the fact that she always reckoned the masses
outside of her, believing beliefs she had not invented, must be
true beliefs, because why else would everyone believe unless
there was something to it all?
‘Why would he leave?’ Lisa asked Robinson.
When asleep and on the verge of coming awake, he must have
shouted out for Fairchild to leave. Fairchild said nothing. He
put his equipment back into his black leather doctor’s
traveling-bag. Robinson pulled the quilt back over his naked and
wasted body.
‘How much weight?’ Fairchild asked quietly, yet angrily.
‘Sixty…’
Fairchild raised his eyebrows.
‘Eighty four pounds,’ he finally admitted.
‘Six stone! Near a third of your usual body weight!’
Fairchild looked furious. Robinson didn’t understand why.
Robinson was the one who was dying. Fairchild was just the
doctor who couldn’t do anything about IT.
‘What’s wrong with him?’ Lisa asked.
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
284
‘There’s nothing I can do for him!’ Fairchild picked up his
locked black bag. In the same gruff tone he had used when Billy
Harriet had cut his arms, rather than make a genuine suicide
attempt, he asked, ‘Do you want medication for your pain
George?’
‘IT will continue?’
‘IT can only get worse! You should be in a hospital!’
Lisa could only look on in ignorance and self-confusion.
‘I’ll come see you…’ said Robinson. ‘So I can be prescribed
whatever you can find for me. But it must not knock me out, or
put me to sleep. I have to be able to take it during working
hours… Some kind of painkiller that won’t dull my mental
facilities, my… Huh!’ Robinson grasped. He felt as if his very
veins were been dragged out of his leg.
‘During your working hours?’ Fairchild asked with a scowl.
‘Inora mind God, my legs, I feel as if some ligament is
torn…’
‘You’re waking up Robinson. The cramping is due to poor
blood circulation. Get up and stretch your leg.’
Robinson chuckled. He remembered what Roger Madican James
had written about how people self-learned to repeat information,
and
then
projected
that
information
outward
to
explain
World/life experiences and works. When he or she found
contradictions to the self-learned information, he or she
imagined faults in the World/life experiences and work.
He’d just thought his veins were being dragged out through
his legs? In reality it was due to poor blood circulation
because he was half asleep? They stood no hope of victory!
‘He’s mildly schizophrenic. He is insisting on stopping and
starting pointless little projects that go nowhere. They are a
result of delusions, and an attempt to avoid reality,’ Lisa
blurted out what was most familiar to her. Her eyes glinted
darkly. There was a real nasty tone to her voice. ‘I’m sorry
George! He has to know!’
‘What? Who?’ Fairchild snapped. He turned to face Robinson.
‘What have you been telling her?’
‘Doctor Jorgen,’ Lisa said. ‘She said George made no
progress with her and is schizophrenic! He works none stop on
nonsense. He doesn’t eat. He’s caught in a self-destructive
cycle… for he can only get rejection and be disappointed by
anyone’s comments on his work. His work is really his bid to
avoid reality and try to stop the erosion of his personality
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
285
into mental illness. Yet due to his work his mental illness can
therefore only be speeded up when he faces nothing but
criticism, rejection and disappointment in regard to his socalled entirely new news work… As such self-contradiction then
to his self-chosen new delusional belief system… You can see
what he has done to himself. First I thought the medication
Jorgen had him on, put him off his appetite. But then he refused
to take his medication.’ The hateful Lisa had hoped to embarrass
George. She did not get the expected UE-inspired hate/revengedriven response from Fairchild. As such she did not get any
support for her self-chosen delusional belief system-a bid to
stop the UE-inspired hate from destroying her conscious
identity, because she lived in a failed society never intended
to be by the pure Gods. Also because she had taken the most
selfish-choices in regard to what she had thought privately in
her own/ed mind, in reaction to standard dramatic World/life
event/circumstances everyone when through.
‘What? Nonsense! George is no more a schizophrenic than I
am,’ Fairchild said quietly, his voice low. He went slightly red
in the face. He was both embarrassed and disgusted that Jorgen
could
be
associated
with
the
medical
profession.
‘What
medication?’
Lisa told him. She appeared conflicted. Fairchild, as much
as Jorgen was, was a doctor with a medical degree. As such he
was an authority figure Lisa wished to bow down before, just
like UE wished her to bow down and accept UE-directing the
course of her conscious thoughts into self-corruption with evil.
Fairchild’s eyes glinted darkly. Fairchild looked at
Robinson’s wasted frame. He had to look towards the window as he
came to terms with the fact Jorgen had actually hoped to
adversely affect Robinson’s weight.
Lisa
had
privately
celebrated
her
husband’s
selfdestruction. Given Robinson was so skinny, an image flashed into
his mind of a Nazi Germany concentration camp survivor, while
the indifferent Lisa watched on calmly at IT all.
Fairchild looked at his black leather traveling doctor’s
bag. He shook his head. Clearly, he was wondering how people
like this Jorgen, could be legally allowed to practice, or why
Robinson was taking this abuse from Lisa?
‘Recently, I’ve had countless meetings with George!’
Fairchild then just gave up. He said no more.
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
286
Lisa smiled bitterly. She betrayed that all along she had
been fully aware Jorgen was a lair. Lisa simply hadn’t cared.
She had just needed an excuse to hate and abuse in any socially
acceptable way that was legal according to the so-called man
made laws of the land. ‘But… I thought it was all down to how
his big brother Richard used to literally look up to George when
they were just kids. By this day, Richard has become wealthy…
And George, in his mental confusion, somehow got the idea into
his confused mind, he’d also become a big success story, with
lofty dreams and unrealistic proposals and endless work, trying
to be someone he is not.’
Fairchild was at a loss. Helpless, Fairchild looked at
Robinson. Robinson nodded to give self-conformation. He shut his
eyelids.
‘He’s dying Lisa!’ Fairchild stated matter-of-factly.
Lisa’s eyes gleamed darkly to reflect a moment of primalUE-mind inspired self-satisfaction and excitement. She then did
her best to hide and consciously deny what she had felt, even if
only to everyone else in this master bedroom with her, and
perhaps not even to her own/ed private self.
Fairchild picked up his locked bag by the handles. He faced
Lisa. He gave her his full attention. ‘I don’t know what is
going on in his head. But I think he is refusing treatment
because he somehow wants to disprove the doctors, because they
gave baby August only four years to live.’
Robinson
chuckled
in
self-frustration
to
hear
the
judgmental UE-inspired madness continue even now… Even from
Fairchild, who was an honest man, who could instantly see
through the likes of Lisa and Jorgen? Yet, with his healthy
conscious mind, Fairchild could accept as facts any UE-inspired
judgment he determined acceptable, and never know what was
really going on.
‘Dying? But how could that be? His last physical…’
‘I don’t want to hear this! Take IT somewhere else!’
Robinson cried out. He did not want to be reminded he could soon
be reduced to a living skeleton. Lisa would then have to look
after him like a child who had to wear diapers. He knew Lisa
well enough, to know, that sometime in the future, he’d wake to
catch Lisa standing over him. She would stand completely still,
and real quietly. She would betray only a hint of a smile as she
thought…
NOW LOOK AT YOU, THE WANT-A-BE BIG-SHOT SAVIOR OF IT ALL.
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
287
He would not be able to believe in a pure Inora-mind-God,
or justice? Or that he was any divined good Player who as such
had the ability to win his part in the damnation game, if he was
dying and unable to take further action upon this Postmescic
mind God business? If he was physically stopped in his tracks
against his conscious will, his very physical brain simply
rotting away…
COME NOW, DON’T BE SELFISH… the unseen bony hand from his
dream, again tapped Robinson on the shoulder. IT really was as
if these days, there was not much difference between what he
dreamed, and what he experienced when awake.
GIVE UP THE FIGHT… GO TO STALE/MATE… ROT… TO THE GRAVE BED…
THERE, THE ONLY TROUBLE YOU’LL CAUSE… WILL BE THE STENCH OF YOUR
SPOILING…
Fairchild and Lisa had exited the master bedroom. Little
Richard was now the one in the master bedroom.
‘Run along now little Richard! Your mother will have a
quiet chat with you, when… she is Able…’ Robinson didn’t like to
think about this. He knew Lisa would never say anything good
about him to Richard. ‘Wait little Richard! Take five dollars
out of my wallet. Go out and buy yourself a treat… Best you
leave your mother some time for herself.’
Little Richard shook his head. He refused the money. He
backed out of the master bedroom. Robinson heard little
Richard’s light footsteps as he ran down the staircase. Half way
down the staircase, there was silence. Little Richard must have
realized there was no one he knew in the outside World/life, who
could help him with this.
Smart kid.
Little Richard ran back up the staircase to the safety of
his familiar bedroom. There was a loud thud. Then there was a
click as little Richard locked his bedroom door.
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
288
PART 5
(OF 6-PARTS)
Fairchild left. Lisa came out with a shocking revelation.
She delivered the news in a cold and calculating way, and with
some self-satisfaction. Lisa was a woman who liked to repeat
negative and unfair stories about World/life, so she could selfjustify her own/ed moral bankruptcy.
Before August had been born, Lisa had found a lump in her
breast. Lisa had also been close to Roger Madican James during
the summer of 1959. After August had been born, the lump had
grown smaller. The more she had breastfed August, the smaller
the lump had become, until completely gone away. Lisa had
decided the original lump had been the result of the pregnancy
enlarging her breasts.
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
289
PART 6
(OF 6-PARTS)
Doctor Fairchild felt he had found the solution to at least
the problem of Robinson’s physical pain.
‘Morphine,’ Fairchild said in his head office.
‘Heroin you mean,’ Robinson said.
‘Yes. Heroin is a diacetate of morphine, used as an
analgesic. But it will help you with your physical pain. It may
not affect your mind, or your body, or harm your organs, or your
tissue in anyway. It is highly addictive. Perhaps once you begin
to take it, you may experience nausea and constipation for a few
days. I know what you’re thinking… But in a pure prescribed
form, pharmaceutics heroin as you call it, should not cause you
any problems. I’ve got a friend, Jack Webster, involved in Drug
Addiction Studies at the Center For Research on Drugs and
Health. According to Jack, it’s both the black market adding
impurities to heroin, and the use of dirty needles that cause
the complications. There is also the fact that people take too
much, and so overdose. No more than during prohibition
moon/shine could leave you blind.
‘During World War One plenty of soldiers in the field
hospitals were given morphine for their pain. They became
addicted. They were prescribed their daily dose. Yet to this day
they lead productive and healthy lives. The rest is all social
myths of the big terror reducing addicts to crazy degenerates.
People ultimately believe what they are told, if they are told
it often enough, or by enough people.
‘I can only advice you George, to go and talk with Jack
Webster. Put yourself under his supervision. You can be
prescribed your daily dose, so you aren’t tempted to take too
much when the pain gets too bad. According to Jack, the patients
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
290
on morphine under his supervision have clear minds. They are
fully capable of continuing with their everyday lives. In the
case that your mind is affected it is unlikely to be the
morphine, but something else entirely. Certainly morphine would
go a great way towards helping you with your physical pain.
‘Anyway, in your advanced stage… it’s not as if you would
be… taking a major health risk.’
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
291
11
(IN 6-PARTS)
PART 1
(OF 6-PARTS)
Powering up the UE-thought-engine and getting the UE to
spew out from the pulsating spiritual dreaming death core, all
the
type
of
nightmarishly
paradoxical
conscious-thoughtchaining-logic, in order to have betrayed to him the type of
evil thinking/fashions/rage of the day that was running IT’s
World/life-show, had a price. UE reacted in a predetermined and
inalterable pattern to negative World/life experiences. Being
the end persecuted focal point of evil social patterns and
gossip generated negative UE-energy. This then drove Robinson to
not just become consciously aware of, but to actually focus on a
personal level on negative thoughts raised out of the UE-thought
engine. They then in a sense, got all tangled up into consciousself-deconstructing, nightmarishly paradoxical thinking knots.
Yet there was just one UE of a standard design in each and
every unconscious human mind behind IT all. This UE was being
worshipped by the majority of humanity, instead of each
individual and unique and independent conscious life force
spirit using UE as mere learning aid/spiritual guide/foolmortal-tool?
He was in the NO.21 suburban house located in Richmond
Virginia State. Robinson’s insistence on creating his own/ed…
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
292
SELF-CRITICAL-MIND,
CENTERED/THE
ROTTEN-RO-HEART/SELFHANGED
ACTOR-MAN’S–FICTIONS
UE-TORTURE-WHEEL
WORLD/LIFEARENA/STAGE-NAME!
…Had left IT’s mark on him. The imaginary thoughts of the
critical Silver Springs locals now circled his tired mind as his
UE tried to use the excuse of reenacting the essential ethos and
spirit of such UE-inspired critical thoughts as a means to
destroy his rational conscious being, by battering it with UEraised negative hate-energy arising through a most major DCCmade-with-UE. He sluggishly opened his eyelids. He was in the
shadowy room in the rented four bed-roomed, semi-detached house.
Sitting in 21 Bishop Street he looked over at the drawn
curtains. The curtains masked the Venetian blind masking the
rays of sunlight, like rib cages did their best to protect the
heart. He slowly remembered he was no longer Sheriff of Silver
Springs. To accommodate the short notice of his resigning, an
official election had had to be held. He was pretty sure the
Silver Springs Town folk had seen Robinson’s departure in early
May of 1966, as a reprieve. Otherwise, the town folk might have
had to voice aloud his and her true concerns about his sanity,
and his competence to carry a loaded firearm in the name of
public World/life safety.
Today, July 1966, he was an FBI Agent Supervisor. Michael
Riordan had, had a good FBI man substitute for Robinson. This
FBI man had taken the FBI’s written, oral and physical exams.
Over a fourteen-week period at the FBI Academy, the Agent had
been schooled for what had actually been his second-time. George
Ira Robinson had been always at the top of his class. He had
left quiet the perfect track record behind him just in case
anyone chose to look back on his career in order to question his
World/life expertise and standing as an FBI agent.
After the substitute had been sworn in as a Special Agent,
ID photographs and a few details had been switched in the
official file kept on Special Agent George Ira Robinson. George
Ira Robinson had behind him countless years of prior law
enforcement experience as an upstanding Sheriff of Silver
Springs. Michael Riordan had all official documents required to
self-justify Robinson’s existence out in the field working on
Michael’s behalf. Robinson’s cover story was that he analyzed
local crime for the Uniform Crime Reports. He was also profiling
murderers as part of a proposal Michael was writing up, for a
new office covering the apprehension of mass murderers.
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
293
If the Director ever called on Michael to account for
Special Agent George Ira Robinson, Michael would claim Robinson
was merely aiding Michael to work on this proposal that could
lead to a potentially valuable new office in the FBI that could
help with future investigations. Certainly, Robinson could
produce countless files to back up his cover story. He could
also rattle out his whole new psychology from morning till
night. He thought of how in reality he would not be capable of
taking the physical, written and oral tests for the FBI. He
groaned internally. He was masked in the dusty dark where he
could self-pretend he looked a lot better than he did.
By now, through constant and endless repetition, he had
self-trained, self-prepared, self-educated, self-styled his mind
to think only in Roger/Postmescic/Reason/Killian Scott Thomas
Schull essay homework terms. His mind was not much good for
anything else. It was a dangerous way to think.
Bad people tried to instinctively use UE-traits and UEjudgments to define all unique and individual conscious life
force spirits as Postmescic hell’s own/ed stereotypes/demonic
jokers. Therefore, the conscious life was the enemy, despite UE
being the reality behind all evil. In the name of good, Robinson
was trying to understand how the UE-ran everyone, because he was
out to resolve IT-all. The line between those two outlooks was
beginning to get blurred in his mind until he felt trapped in
some sort of paradoxical nightmare thought-maze.
How then to smash apart all paradoxical thinking-really
aimed to destroy all rational and independent conscious thought,
and replace pure conscious thinking with primal-UE-mind-raised
evil thinking? What was the solution that so far, he only knew
had something to do with the CM;2-concept Roger Madican James
had written about in the Killian Schull essay homework?
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
294
PART 2
(OF 6-PARTS)
He was in the upstairs master bedroom of the 21 Bishop
Street house. Robinson wheezed. He clutched the new one-eyed
monkey walking stick he’d made since losing the other in the
fire in the hall of permanent-RO-records. He ignored the other
two FBI Agents under his command.
Upon detecting Robinson waking, both Agents grimaced as if
they had just detected a foul odor. Based on past experience
Robinson knew the two Agents were most likely thinking…
CHRIST! HAS THE CREATURE ALREADY COME AWAKE AGAIN, AS IF WE
HAVEN’T ALREADY PUT UP WITH ENOUGH OF HIM?
Despite his most honest will to fully face his larger than
World/life responsibilities, Robinson had taken a shot of
morphine. He had then fallen asleep yet again.
He now groaned. He forced himself out of his armchair. The
two Special Agents presently up here with him had illegally
bugged the four-bedroom NO.11 house located directly across the
street from NO.21-he presently occupied.
Rick Derek Styles and Stephen no middle name Tomas had
rented NO.11 as if to reflect their certainty they would most
likely soon be on the move again around the Earth. The two
lawmen knew they could never self-entertain any notions about
tying themselves down anywhere, to anything or anyone. Let alone
consider making a serious commitment such as taking out a
mortgage on a house.
Bishop Street was the exact same spelling as the surname of
the kid Howard Bishop who’d made the error of calling Roger
Madican James CJ, COURT JESTER. This most particular Howard
Bishop had challenged Roger to cut his arm open with a rusty old
penknife. Roger had turned on Bishop. Roger had beaten him to a
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
295
bloody pulp and all but sexually assaulted him. Bishop had been
left with a stutter that acted up anytime he got scared or
tense. Robinson knew the Postmescic mind God liked to look on
humans as hapless UE-human pawns, run and consciously defined by
UE-judgments, reactionary thinking and conscious decoding.
Humans controlled by unconscious intellects often believed in a
force of destiny or fate. He or she believed everything that
happened to him or her happened for a reason, because those
unconscious intellects were controlling his or her mindset for
an alternative agenda. Unconscious intellects were making use
out of his and her every World/life experience and reaction to
any World/life experience to do this. The Postmescic mind God
liked to believe that IT was the Postmescic mind God that
decided the end result significance of each human. Given all of
this, Robinson knew his address on Bishop Street in this early
stage of the damnation game could not be a coincidence. He also
knew that Howard Bishop should be checked up on now and again.
He felt something tugging on his ears. He had fallen asleep
while wearing the headphones attached by a cord to the
surveillance tape recorders. The large spools automatically
began to record as soon as there was any sound in the NO.11house louder than a church mouse scampering across the
floorboards. He removed his headphones. He thrust his walking
stick-end into Agent O’Neil’s rite shoulder. O’Neil was startled
from his intense concentration-O’Neil was using to cover for the
fact that he wished to ignore Robinson as he privately felt
hatred for Robinson. O’Neil spun around. Only then did O’Neil
think to remove his headphones.
‘I dozed off. Did I miss anything?’
‘No! You didn’t! They just got home from working the
grave/yard watch… They were once again out there with the
prostitutes, drug-dealers, and the rest of the scum of humanity
who come out at night like cockroaches sent scattering and
scurrying once the light comes on!’
Robinson grunted. He turned away. He tried to check the
time on his wrist/watch. The hands and numbers were meant to be
illuminant. He had been in the dark too long, for any hope the
illuminant surfaces could retain enough dying embers of light to
now allow him to read the correct time.
He limped towards the drawn curtains. Special Agent O’Neil
grimaced at Special Agent Farrell. Until he needed something
done, Robinson acted as if the two agents didn’t exist. If he
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
296
did need something done, he talked to them like his servants
rather than subordinates. Or worse, as if he was some criminally
insane maniac straight out of a comic book, and they were his
moronic goons and henchmen. O’Neil and Farrell didn’t like this
one bit. Behind his back, they called Robinson a true bastard.
This was no meaningless game without consequence Robinson
was playing. He was out to test the true conscious character of
any Agent serving under him. In particular he wished to test
their real and everyday World/life reactions to what caused
conflict, until Robinson could determine what type of men they
really were. He had initiated the conflict by letting it slip
bit by bit he’d pulled strings and exploited friendships and had
taken shortcuts to get into the FBI, and to land a big promotion
to Agent Supervisor. The two Agents under him had obviously gone
through World/life giving into the UE-inspired self-destruct,
self-punish, self-corrupt drive. For by this day there was no
independent and rational and wise and pure conscious life force
spirit left awake in them. They had evolved into increasingly
greater states of self-corruption, not into increasingly greater
states of purity and wisdom. By now all that was left was one
great, big wide and gaping DCC-made-with-UE connection through
which UE-inspired judgmental thinking and hate/revenge-inspiredmental vomit poured-through. No doubt the real damage had been
done when they’d married so they could self-satisfy lust with
women-they imagined they loved because they had formed a
emotional connection with a person who allowed them to ejaculate
into her. In reality, if there were such a thing as a truly
World/life-like, but inanimate doll they could have sex with
they would have formed the same emotional connection and sense
of love and commitment with the doll as they did with a real
woman. The men, void of complex and pure and wise conscious
thoughts, had no idea what real friendship was meant to be. By
this day visceral/gut/emotional levels controlled by UE alone
ran
them.
Society
and
the
educational
system
and
the
entertainment industry had gone to work since their very birth
as babies, to self-train, self-prepare, self-educate, selffashion them to end up this way. In short then the two FBI
Agents, Michael Riordan had assigned to him, were nothing but
liabilities to Robinson.
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
297
PART 3
(OF 6-PARTS)
Robinson parted the curtains. He used his fingertip to pull
down one of the horizontal blind slats. It was a nice sunny
morning outside in the respectable neighborhood. The two
opposing rows of houses ran parallel to each other. They then
dispersed out in a broad circle, and surrounded a bright green
on which the local children could play. As two respected lawmen,
Rick Derek Styles and Stephen no middle name Tomas who rented
NO.11, had started out as welcome additions to this respectable
neighborhood. The locals figured two lawmen would ensure less
trouble in general in the area.
It was obvious most women in the area lusted after Styles
and Tomas. With Styles so internalized, and obviously not
interested in the people around him, in reaction to their sexual
frustration the local women were beginning to say Styles was a
stuck up pig cop, who thought they were beneath him. These, of
course, were the too same type of UE-judgmental thoughts that
could
have
ensured
another
good-looking
man
ended
up
internalized and angry, because jealous people constantly tried
to treat him badly because he and she envied his good looks.
Robinson though was only amused by this most particular
World/life situation. Of course he knew Styles was only doing
what Robinson was doing. He was using every last possible
resource at his disposal in his everyday World/life, to ensure
he never forgot what his real vocation was. He then never wasted
one second thinking about anything but how to beat the
Postmescic mind God at IT’s own/ed so paradoxical damnation
game. As such, Styles allowed DCC-made-with-UE connections to
form in him, through which the type of UE-inspired delusions and
judgmental evil thinking and fashions/rage of the day that
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
298
defined everyone else around him, rose through and occurred to
conscious Styles. Then he observed the end results like a
detached conscious witness watching a true-World/life horror
show of nightmarishly paradoxical logical proportions.
Yet simultaneously Styles also worked out how to use
independent conscious logic to dismantle the evil-inspired
delusional thinking back down to components the Killian Schull
essay homework defined. He tried to work out how to remove and
reverse the DCC-made-with-UE connection out of conscious
existence. No doubt this was also why Styles denied himself any
material comforts. Styles was cultivating his obsession with the
Postmescic mind God. He was then living his World/life as
sparsely as he could. He was trying to ensure his thinking
processes would never be mislead by anything such as the offer
of material comforts or worldly gains, or sense of personal
importance, basically the type of things and concepts RO-Culture
had tried to self-train, self-prepare, self-educate, selffashion him to think was what he required to live a great
World/life. Equally, RO-Culture self-trained people to think in
self-interested terms in regard to capitalism that meant when
one gained, someone else lost out and were exploited. Also ROCulture self-trained one to think in terms of fame and money as
rewards, and thus a whole load of evil thinking accompanied this
concept. The whole country was at it, ranting and raving about
the great evil of communism. Yet if born and raised in Russia,
the too-same conscious-fools would rant and rave about the evils
of capitalism. No, Styles was out to remove all evil thinking
from his conscious mind. He wished only to get to the essential
core foundational truths behind all of this type of behavior.
Lisa, little Richard and August were still back in Silver
Springs. Robinson had put the family home up for sale. He had
already taken out a loan on his family home so he could buy a
much larger house in Washington. He intended to move fast. As it
was, he had little enough time to work with.
He now used the sunlight to both read the correct time, and
to recharge his wristwatch’s illuminant hands and numbers.
It was 10.15AM.
He removed his finger from the bent blind slat. The heavy
felt curtain fell back into its proper place. All sunlight was
cut out of the master bedroom.
‘Just home you say?’ he muttered. He limped back across the
room to his worn armchair. Stuffing protruded from the armrest.
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
299
‘They stop for breakfast somewhere?’ He knew Styles and Tomas
were constantly going to places such as restaurants. There, they
talked for long stretches about strictly top-secret private
matters. IT was as if deep down part of them knew they were been
constantly watched and eavesdropped upon. Or then again maybe
they were messing around with playing roles, and concepts such
as rotten-RO-heart identities and symptoms of so-called mental
illness/depression such as paranoia, in order to better selfprepare for Roger, and to define the Postmescic-mind-God
identity and ITs influence on the development of thought
processes in the conscious mind. Paranoid people often though
everyone was against them. Yet, there really was an unconscious
UE-conspiracy to destroy conscious humanity. Just look at Nazi
Germany. Just look at how black people were treated by white
racists? Or Jews treated due to the work of people like Hitler?
Equally, Styles and Tomas truly were, as much as conscious-Roger
was,
major
players
in
the
damnation
game,
constantly
contemplated and self-conspired against then by Postmescic-mindGod-IT. Robinson wanted to keep a record of this type of
behavior. If it continued, he would have to figure out a way to
bug such locations.
With no answer forthcoming from O’Neil and Farrell
presently grimacing and with their eyes gleaming darkly, he
glanced at Derek Styles’ hardback notebooks and diaries. They
were pilled next to his armchair. He had repeatedly read through
the work, until able to conceive of Derek’s personality that had
so greatly influenced Rick Styles’ style of thinking. He never
intended to let Styles know he had possession of the father
Derek’s work. IT had been prophesized Robinson would become an
adopted spiritual dream father of the other two good Players. He
wanted to make sure he was more than ready to make the prophecy
true, for he could see benefits in doing so.
After a month of keeping Styles and Tomas under tight
covert surveillance, Robinson knew, despite their big talk, both
of the men felt trapped and penned-in by their obsession with
the Postmescic mind God business. IT had been created due to
their shared alien experiences back over even still operational
RO-woe, and due to their thwarted ambition. Their ambition was
not a detrimental symptom of evil such as it was when it came to
most people and their ambition that all came under the heading
of CREATING A ROTTON-RO-HEART IDENTITY and beating someone else
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
300
down and proving superiority over a truest nothing nobody, no
one.
Yet, if Styles and Tomas had any UE-evil motivating and
driving them to become successful, it was only so they could
hope to make the World/life a better place, more the place the
nation of the pure Gods/IG/soul/Collective forces that are
Mother Nature intended it to be. They wished to end the lies and
evil-purpose-serving thinking that flooded society and conspired
to
self-train
the
masses
to
think
incorrectly
for
no
individual’s benefit, as much as conscious-Roger had since come
to. If this were the two men’s true will, then even UE would
have to self-conspire to help them succeed. For this had been
one of the original intentions of UE decided upon by the nation
of the pure Gods prior the beginning of universal time itself.
To drive humanity to wish to evolve not back into selfdestructive nothingness with UE, but away from evil in the
completely opposite direction into an increasingly purer and
wiser spiritual being. To drive humanity to do the complete
reverse of what UE wished humanity to do. Then to use UE to tell
humanity when there was an injustice and lies, and what was the
incorrect thing for humanity to do and to think.
The real reason then Styles and Tomas were growing so
mentally fatigued and confused and burned out, was due to the
fact that nearly everything in human society was self-designed
to trick conscious humanity into thinking in a conscious-selfdeconstructing
manner?
To
self-train,
self-prepare,
selfeducate, self-fashion people to consciously-self-mirror with the
UE-purpose to mindlessly destroy and drag all back down into
complete ruin? Instead of doing the complete reverse of what UE
wished humanity to do? As such, if Styles and Tomas wished to
heal the human World/life, they had to work out the correct
logic that could defeat the evil-purpose-serving, nightmarishly
paradoxical logic?
When Robinson showed up with the rite answers, he wished to
become a major adopted spiritual dream father figure in the two
ex-RO-orphans World/lives. He reckoned they simply had to be the
two divined good Players, IT-Postmescic had prophesized he would
become a temporarily adopted spiritual dream father figure to
back in the disused RO dead house, when Robinson had stood in a
near trance viewing the three wise monkeys ornament.
With Derek Styles’ work as Robinson’s private secret, he
should know how to play the role of Derek Styles in the two ex-
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
301
RO-orphans World/lives. He could understand the stress the two
ex-RO-orphans were constantly under, and the constant mental
confusion they had to be in. After all they were trying as much
as Robinson was, to seriously consider the worth of the human
World/life’s logic. They then had to self-maintain a highly
mentally suggestible state of mind if they were to form any, and
every possible state of mind governed by DCC-made-with-UE that
conscious-Roger or humanity might come to know in reaction to
the UE-purpose-serving information flooding, and then dictating
the thinking patterns, and thus the words and actions of the
masses. Given all of this, Styles and Tomas were in a very trueindependent-conscious-self-distracted state. They had to be then
driven away from forming PP:FCIC-made-with-IG.
Though it would be obvious Robinson would be playing the
role of Derek Styles in the two ex-RO-orphans World/lives… and
playing the role of the Derek Styles that Rick Styles and Tomas
surely had to have so often fantasized about having in their
World/lives as kid orphans… Rick Styles and Tomas should be too
mentally disturbed to really realize how Robinson was trying to
manipulate past positive associations the two ex-RO-orphans had
formed in what had basically been childhood years to the concept
of the identity of Derek Styles. They’d also then fail to see
Robinson was merely playing the part of Derek Styles. Or, even
if they did realize, they would be too grateful to care. The
fact was the two men were just that now, grown men. As such
grown men, they lacked the pure and open and imaginative mindset
that could allow them to do what had once come so easy to them
when they’d been kids. To blindly form PP:FCIC-made-with-IG
associations with what had basically been the imaginary friend,
interpreted identity of Derek Styles.
Equally, it would be good practice for when the time came
to manipulate any PP:FCIC-made-with-IG associations consciousRoger had formed with any or all the three good Players. It
would be a good testing ground for working out ideas and
concepts in regard to how to manipulate PP:FCIC-made-with-IG
associations.
To outsiders who didn’t know any better, Stephen Tomas
might appear to be an emotional cripple. He appeared to have
great difficulty making friends and trusting people. Tomas tried
to get Styles to fill the role of father, brother, and friend.
Tomas was making a rite destructive mess out of everything.
Tomas couldn’t have a friend one minute, a parent giving advice
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
302
and orders the next, without Tomas getting angry and going on
the defensive rant.
Styles was a stranger character. Styles knew as well as
Tomas did, Tomas associated his conscious soul… and in this
damnation
game
more
importantly
his
IG…
with
Styles’
personality. Yet Tomas was expected to play the role of constant
RO-Culture-critic, out to destroy all conscious good in Styles
and all IG associations… until all that was left was a view of
reality where UE ran all of human World/life and poured out
nothing
but
negative
energy
and
UE-inspired
dramatic
thinking/mental vomit through a DCC-made-with-UE connection into
the conscious being.
By doing this Tomas was meant to help force conscious
Styles, to go into complete exile from his conscious soul.
Styles then could do nothing but invent conscious reasoning to
defeat all DCC-made-with-UE that arose in reaction to all UEinspired judgmental and so dramatic lies/mental vomit Tomas came
out with. Such UE-inspired judgmental thinking and so dramatic
lies/mental vomit all came under the same definition Roger
Madican James had invented as a kid. The thought-patterns all
conformed to all evil spiritual laws UE was the sum of. As such
they were hate/revenge driven, evil-inspired thought patterns
pacifically self-designed to destroy all rational conscious
thought, and spread reasons to hate and despair and to wish to
take revenge and to punish all around. This way, a conscious
being could be tricked into thinking it wished to accept as
representing its conscious beliefs, the evil-inspired judgmental
drama in order to explain World/life. Yet such judgmental
dramatic thinking was really mere self-camouflage designed to
advance the real UE-purpose to recreate an evil God in place of
conscious humanity.
In truth then all that was happening was conscious Tomas
was making the conscious decision to consciously form a DCCmade-with-UE. His UE was dreaming up nightmarish logic in
reaction to the RO-education and alien World/life experiences
Tomas had gone through. Tomas then made the conscious decision
to become RO-Culture critic, to puke out this UE-dreamed
nightmarish logic onto Styles. Styles UE was then fed more evil
so his UE could reenact the essential ethos and spirit of this
mental puke, so yet more evil could then arise to attack Styles’
independent
sense
of
conscious
self.
This
evil-inspired
logic/mental
puke
was
basically
self-designed
to
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
303
think/argue/deconstruct out of existence conscious-Styles. Just
like Tomas had nearly been argued out of existence by the Reason
down in the D-Block,-’61 self-slaughterhouse.
By this late state of the damnation game, and after been in
each others company for so long, Tomas’ mere physical presence
could inspire Styles to think of such UE-inspired judgmental
trash/mental puke RO-Culture-inspired criticism in reaction to
his conscious ideas, by himself. In short, in the two men’s
self-destructive relationship, Tomas represented all the ROCulture human World/life’s invented wisdom/fashions/rages of the
day. I.E. he represented the UE-purpose-serving conscious-selfdeconstructing logic and lies-UE had used to trick humanity into
creating evil human history. Tomas, who had faced IT in D-Block
and so knew the real significance of IT all, was the personal
link that allowed such critical thoughts flooding society to
become a direct personal attack against Styles. The two men
might know that such critics and such a so-called great way of
thinking of the so-called present modern day, was a result of
humanity deciding to make humanity the enemy. Even though UE-was
the real enemy of conscious humanity. Not conscious humanity-the
single enemy to attack and lash back at due to UE-generated
negative energy/hate/revenge drive in the individual. Yet,
Tomas’ RO-Culture critic role was to make all such widespread
lies-UE-purpose-serving-logic into a personal attack against
conscious-Styles-the individual. For Styles not only knew Tomas
had survived D-Block, but Styles also shared a deeply personal
bond with Tomas and this meant on many levels he cared about
what Tomas thought.
The two men did this, so Styles could work out how all UEinspired lies and conscious-self-destructive logic, related back
to Roger’s Killian Schull watch/maker essay. This dually ensured
Tomas could never escape from his UE, and turn IG into his main
source of conscious inspiration. As such Tomas was trapped as
Styles’ constant RO-Culture-critic with UE-as the main source of
conscious inspiration. Tomas was left to rant and rave his
mental vomit about why Styles was always wrong in everything he
said. Until Styles figured out the best conscious logic that
convinced even Tomas, Styles was in fact rite.
In a sense then, Styles temporarily consciously decoded
Tomas out of his RO-Culture critic role. In effect, Styles
temporarily
resolved
all
DCC-made-with-UE,
and
all
the
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
304
associated destructive delusional and faulty logic the DCC-madewith-UE connection caused to occur in conscious-Tomas.
The two men had set up a clever relationship. They didn’t
need outsiders, only the so-called work, thoughts and ideas of
outsiders. They needed to define the Postmescic mind God’s true
character, and how IT alone adversely affected society, and as
such how IT self-possessed conscious-Roger, and in terminology
the two men could sell to anyone. As such the men repeatedly
argued over many of the same points and ideas.
Given the…
SELF-MIRRORING LAW OF EVIL/ONCE ALL MISLEADING PRIMAL RAGE,
REACTIONARY THINKING INFORMATION, AND ALL SENSE OF ONE’S
CONSCIOUS SELF IN CONFLICT DUE TO A DCC-MADE-WITH-UE CONNECTION
IS BYPASSED, ONE DISCOVERS UE IS NOT JUST COMMUNICATING
INFORMATION REPRESENTATIVE OF HOW OTHERS THINK ABOUT ONE… BUT UE
IS IN FACT TRYING TO RECREATE IN THE GOOD, THE EXACT SAME
MORALLY BANKRUPT STATE OF MIND THE BAD KNOW, IN ORDER TO DESTROY
ALL CONSCIOUS LIFE!
…Then the only law can be…
SELF-CRITICAL-MIND,
CENTERED/THE
ROTTEN-RO-HEART/SELFHANGED
ACTOR-MAN’S–FICTIONS
UE-TORTURE-WHEEL
WORLD/LIFEARENA/STAGE-NAME.
These men understood not only would they have to become
actor/salesmen of this subject, in regard to their dealings with
other humans. But they’d also have to deal with Postmescic-Roger
Madican James on a deeply personal level. They’d have to be able
to
safely
resolve
any
DCC-made-with-UE
and
subsequent
destructive
and
faulty
and
nightmarishly
paradoxical
logic/mental vomit that occurred in conscious-Roger, if they
were to be able to deal with him in any sane and safe way.
Yet again there was something… a major truth that, if
realized, would aid the men to resolve all… about this
relationship between Styles and Tomas that Robinson felt he was
on the verge of consciously grasping. As yet, the game playing
good men were still reacting in the most superficial and basic
way to IT… There was so much more to self-learn, so many new
techniques that had to be discovered and invented…
The fact that the men had complete consciousness of what
they were doing, was beside the point. The inalterable fact was
they had unconscious minds just like everyone else that ROCulture had conspired to self-train to work in a certain way.
They had gone through World/life kept in conscious ignorance of
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
305
how the unconscious really worked and what for, until Roger had
shown up in their World/lives. As such the two men had
mindlessly fantasized and dreamt of things, and had thought
things when mindlessly forming DCC-made-with-UE and PP:FCICmade-with-IG at random and in reaction to the whim of accidental
World/life experience, and they out for the moment to feel
better in the self. The two men then, when kid orphans, had
surely thought wild and crazy things. Despite the conscious
self-awareness of what was really happening eventually coming to
be in the two men, they had started out just like everyone else
did in this World/life. They then still had a World/life history
where they had formed DCC-made-with-UE and PP:FCIC-made-with-IG
at random, and in reaction to the will of the human World/life,
and in reaction to what the human World/life tried to self-train
them to think about-all misleading and pointless nonsense. The
two men still had a lot of pointless and randomly formed
World/life history. They then would probably wish to play the
part of adopted sons Robinson expected them to play, even if
only in a bid to sustain self-motivation and self-belief, so it
would be less likely they would fall to confusion due to
internal pressures. As the two men’s adopted spiritual dream
father, Robinson would become yet another means of support.
The fact was though they were all role-playing and playing
games in relation to the accepted truth and the lie of the
present day, what was the fact and what was the fiction, they
basically, as yet, still knew nothing about the truth anyway?
This, one day, would have to change!
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
306
PART 4
(OF 6-PARTS)
Robinson put on his headphones. O’Neil was a good
technician. O’Neil ensured Robinson could hear Styles and Tomas
talking as clearly, if not clearer, than he would if he stood in
whatever area of the house Styles and Tomas were presently
talking in. Finally, Styles and Tomas’ obsession could no longer
be repressed. Tomas said to Styles…
‘Last night, I dreamt of Cidean. Something is changing…
Something real bad.’
By now, Robinson knew Tomas had been the one down in the DBlock,-’61 self-slaughterhouse. This World/life experience had
somehow opened up some freak DCC-made-with-UE connection with
his conscious being that ensured when Tomas was awake,
conscious-Tomas was more open to being bombarded by the Vexation
framework inspired mythology/fashions/rage of the day, meant to
represent peoples most common belief systems of the present day.
This information was all twisted up and through all unconscious
human minds. Tomas was more open to being inspired by the type
of reactionary thinking, and conscious decoding, and UE-inspired
flawed
logic
flooding
World/life
society.
All
of
this
information was designed to pull him down into hate and rage and
despair and the desire then to take revenge and punish on UE’sbehalf. He was being mislead-from the pure-and true independent
and unique conscious-self thought patterns.
In reaction to all of this unholy process, Tomas became the
RO-Culture-critic. He ranted and raved such information aloud
for Styles’ benefit. Styles came up with the sound and secure
conscious logic that in effect safely resolved the DCC-madewith-UE. It put Tomas back into touch with the pure and true and
independent conscious self.
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
307
Based on the fact Robinson had nightmares concerning
manmade famine, manmade wars, crime, mental illness etc. he
understood this was not a nice state of conscious-selfdeconstructing mindset for Tomas to be constantly subjected to,
not by any means. Yet it was good for his SELF-DOUBTING, SELFCRITICAL, SELF-QUOTING, RO-GORILLA-MAN THOMAS ROLE.
The flipside was that when Tomas dreamed, his dream-self
either was driven out of his body, through some sort of astral
projection when Tomas was conveyed through the Vexation
framework to Cidean. Or else it was the case that imagery of
Cidean was conveyed through the Vexation framework to his
unconscious mind.
‘O’Neil! Farrell! Go downstairs! Wait until I need you!’ He
pronounced the names almost as O’KNEEL and FARE/WELL. The two
Agents glared at him. They didn’t react fast enough for him.
‘Get out!’ he roared. He waved his bronze-headed one-eyed monkey
walking stick at the Agents. This most particular World/life
action reminded him of little Richard.
Instead of self-training at the Academy, Robinson had been
fulfilling his promise to be a better father. He would proclaim
to little Richard, he was going into his office to let the
monster out of the locked cabinet. In reality, he would take a
shot of morphine.
Little Richard would run up and down the corridor outside
the office. As little Richard passed the doorway, Robinson, with
a dirty-gray dishrag over his head, and kneeling down, would
stick his head and walking stick out the door. He would growl.
He would pretend to try to trip little Richard up with his
walking stick. Every time the laughing little Richard would have
to build up the courage to run past the door yet another time.
It really was as if little Richard half believed in the monster,
or that his father would actually trip him up, even though
Robinson never had. Then little Richard would laugh in glee to
have escaped the monster.
Today, when the Agents didn’t move fast enough, Robinson
really was like the monster he told little Richard came in
through a hole in the back of his locked cabinet. Within
seconds, he was shouting in rage. He was waving his one-eyed
monkey walking stick around. He was poking the Agents with it,
like a farmer trying to scatter sheep. Driving him was his fear
O’Neil and Farrell would hear something they were clearly not
ready to hear. He wanted to protect O’Neil and Farrell from
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
308
their own/ed deeply flawed and morally self-bankrupted conscious
characters. Yet their deeply flawed conscious characters were
the very same concepts that now so disgusted and angered
Robinson, and drove him to act so vehemently.
O’Neil and Farrell fled the master bedroom, leaving
Robinson alone. Little Richard might love to be chased and
frightened, but he was a young boy with an innocent imagination
who trusted his father. O’Neil and Farrell felt they were been
insulted when treated like naughty children. The two Agents
liked to imagine they were important big shots. After their
departure, Robinson began to close the master bedroom door.
‘Crazy, drug-fiend, addict, bastard,’ O’Neil muttered on
the landing. He was hoping Robinson would overhear him. ‘Making
us sit up there in the dark, around the clock, while he takes
his heroin! Then he mutters in his sleep like a degenerate
madman, some nonsense about UE’s, and IG’s being spirit-guides
and learning aids and mediums between this World/life and the
next… and that are the sum of how all spiritual laws of the
next-World/life, relate to this World/life! And then when
finally something that is actually real, does happen, we have to
alert that confused mad bastard out of his sleep and crazy
dreams. We have to get right on out of there, while he takes
over, high as a kite, while blasted on some of his stockpile of
heroin!
‘You know, he thinks we don’t know about the two portable
M2-2 World War Two flamethrowers he has hidden in the wood
crates… One in his bedroom, the other down in the garage he
keeps locked. And yet his van in the drive!’
Robinson knew that O’Neil had named the hiding places to
let Robinson know that O’Neil knew for certain.
‘Guy’s crazy! What does he think he can do with them? Burn
down the neighborhood? What I would like to know is which maniac
put that madman in charge of the controls?
‘Jesus! Yesterday afternoon, I fell asleep. I had a
nightmare the guy was chasing me with one of his World-War Two
flamethrowers! You ever see those things, huge and clumsy and
hard and heavy…’
‘He’s hiding in that dark!’
‘From what?’
‘Himself!’ Farrell said. ‘I got wind of a rumor he’s dying
of cancerous tumors. That’s what the heroins for… And all of
this operation is just Riordan’s way of doing one last favor,
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
309
fulfilling one last request for his dying best friend, prior the
end. I don’t think he’s ever even heard of the concept of
embarrassment. After all of his crazy talk I did some asking
around of my own.
‘I heard there were all sorts of strange goings on at the
Bureau to ensure he could become an official Agent, and be
immediately given his own little covert task force! But the guy
was never even trained in at the Academy! He’s dying. He was too
sick to be properly trained in!’
‘So why does the Bureau want him, if he can’t, and doesn’t
even know how to follow proper procedure? He’ll end up doing
something to disgrace the entire Bureau. He’ll hang our careers
alongside his own. Then we’ll be expected to account for his
actions! Because that madman will be ranting he didn’t even know
what he had done was illegal. They’ll be asking us why we let
him go on, high as a kite?
‘Sheriff out of Silver Springs, involved in that whole
Roger Madican James mess? Makes you wonder what any serious
criminals he once arrested, and who are presently locked up in
prison, would think to see him now?’
Farrell laughed. ‘And foaming at the mouth too!’
‘What would the Bureau want with a walking dead man,
anyway? If he really were dying, why would he want to be locked
up in that dark and dusty room, listening to some dumb, crazy,
queer cops, who live together but don’t fuck?
‘Robinson wears a wedding ring… Probably his own family
want shot of him as much as he always wants another shot of
heroin?’
‘Beats me! I heard he has a son!’
With his headphones on, Robinson grunted. He sat down on
O’Neil’s chair. He didn’t really see the large spools constantly
revolving before his eyes. Yet, he would be immediately aware if
they stopped turning. He would want to listen to the recorded
conversation again and again. He could now use the involuntary
internal conflict the Agents under his command, had given his UE
the excuse to generate in him and that he had to then be
conscious
of
like
he
was
watching
a
horror
show,
to
hate/revenge-drive him to even more intensely focus his
conscious mind on one subject alone. He would not/could not rest
in peace until he safely resolved the subject of IT-all. Only
then might he know true inner peace and be ready to
mortally/physically die.
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
310
PART 5
(OF 6-PARTS)
‘So what are you saying?’ Styles’ distinctive husky voice
came through loud and clear. O’Neil and Farrell had been well
self-trained, self-prepared, self-educated, self-fashioned. They
had done an excellent job bugging NO.11. Even Styles and Tomas,
who worked under/cover, appeared not to know their residence was
bugged.
‘In my dreams of Cidean, the Ethile Infatueata’s face has
started to change for the third time,’ said Tomas.
Apparently
after
surviving
the
D-Block,-‘61
selfslaughterhouse, Tomas had repeatedly dreamed of the Ethile
Infatueata and both Irapi protecting the image of Dorothy
Philpot’s face. Years later, Dorothy Philpot had become Roger’s
very first Human Reason Victim. Then Tomas had dreamed of the
Ethile and both Irapis’ projecting an image of a man’s face.
Tomas had later seen a booking-photo of the high/Jack/ed Riley
in a newspaper. He’d identified the face from his repetitious
dreams was the face of the too-same man who’d become Roger’s
second Human Reason Victim. Now, Tomas was dreaming a third face
was beginning to take shape in his prophetic dreams.
‘Another Human Reason Victim has been decided upon,’ said
Tomas. ‘Roger is going to be drawn directly towards that future
victim, once that victim has had enough bad World/life
experiences to be even more susceptible to be successfully taken
and self-convinced by the Reason of the argument she should
allow herself to aid the Postmescic mind God’s private
agenda/purpose to destroy, self-judge the human race…
‘That’s surely why the Ethile Infatueata first exudes her
dream self-interpretation of a victim, looking innocent and
young… and as picture perfect and as beautiful as is possible
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
311
for a mortal-so-full of flaws… As the dream image decays and
ages, this means in real World/life the person is gradually
growing increasingly more self-corrupt. By definition then,
growing increasingly wore prone to becoming a successful Human
Reason Victim self-sacrifice… until finally, Roger is directed
through negative World/life social scenes directly to that so
very human victim.
‘But this time something has gone screwy with the whole
unholy process. This makes me fear real trouble just ahead.
Yesterday, I dreamt the Ethile wore the face of a strange woman
I’ve no memory of ever having seen before. Up until this time,
the Ethile and the Irapi always present the same fated face. But
the Irapi does not capture this IT’s time, the woman’s facial
features. Instead, the Irapi gave rise to the features of a
baby… Like a mother and her baby girl.’
Tomas went on to describe the woman and her baby girl…
IT IS AUGUST AND LISA ROBINSON
WHO ARE TO BE THE NEXT TWO HUMAN REASON VICTIMS, ROBINSON
BECAUSE IT’S YOUR REFUSAL TO CHANGE THAT IS CHANGING LISA
FOR HER INCREASING STATE OF MORAL BANKRUPTCY IS NOT PARTLY
BUT IS ALL NOW DUE TO HER GREAT LOSS
OF HER ONCE PICTURE PERFECT VISION OF WHO YOU REALLY ARE
NOW THAT YOU ARE BOTH PHYSICALLY AND SPIRITUALLY DYING
IN HER OWN/ED POSTMESCIC-MIND-GOD’S DIRECTED WORLD/LIFE-VIEW!
All he could do for now, was remind himself he had FBI
Agents watching over Lisa, August and little Richard. Yet he
knew, if the Postmescic mind God was intent on punishing the
Robinson family due to Robinson’s relentless insistence on
trying to do his very best to meddle in IT’s business in the
name of good, IT would eventually find a way to succeed. IT
would do IT’s very best to self-corrupt and mislead Robinson
into a state of damnation, no matter who or what had to pay.
‘So that is why you were rubbing your thumb against your
two fingers all through the nightshift,’ Styles said. ‘You’re
itching to go gambling somewhere. You want to try to not throw
Snake Eyes all night long.’
By now, Robinson knew that Tomas losing at gambling, while
proclaiming he was going to win, was how Tomas went about trying
to convince himself he had no control over anything. He didn’t
count for much in the larger picture. He had no divine luck or
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
312
destiny. He was fully mortally alive. He was not some spirit in
exile of a personal World/life history judgment day long since
come and gone and rung through him, and Tomas in conscious
denial was merely dreaming he was still mortally alive. He was
then unconsciously stacking all odds in his favor in regard to
what types of World/life scenes he dreamed of, to ensure he
never found out he was a conscious self-named spiritual error
long dead and gone from this IT’s made-World/life.
Problem was, that of late, Tomas’ UE was out to mock his
delusional condition. UE had somehow figured out a way to force
Tomas to throw a winning hand every time. Tomas then felt lost
like some spirit drifting along through the tides of time, not
sure if he was dead or alive.
‘Those stinking Irapi,’ Tomas was saying. ‘They mock me,
just by how they appear… The very cowls they wear… The stinking
cowls look like filthy mantles made of rotten human skin and
flesh the Irapi flayed from their last victims, hundreds, if not
thousands of years ago… back to Adam and Eve tracked down after
he and she were kicked out of Eden and punished.
‘Yet the Irapi are both still dreaming of whoever they
murdered to get those skins… Through the use of the Exudus, the
Irapi are able to keep those skins preserved rite between the
point of decay and absolute dissolution.
‘And as for those perfect human features carved into those
alien stone masks, the Irapi just keep on self-resurrecting out
of the dark caged in by the cowls? Those masks have the same
emotional detachment and simplicity in stating the facts of a
human face, that induce in me the same self-horror and madness
we both felt when we went to study the inalterable name and
dates etched onto Dorothy Philpot’s tombstone!
‘The Irapi truth is always the same truth. I can never
change IT! Now I know a woman and a baby are to die… IT reminds
me of that bastard,’ Tomas lost control. He went on the rant for
a while. In a most tiresome manner, Tomas shouted on and on
about some psychiatrist he’d seen on television. This doctor had
first said people had a death drive that made them indulge in
destructive behavior like drinking too much alcohol. He then
directly contradicted himself by saying one could interpret
one’s dreams, to find out what one really wanted out of
World/life and what was best for one, as if the death-drive
could not also influence dreams?
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
313
Despite Styles pointing out this contradiction in the logic
to Tomas, Styles failed to consciously decode Tomas free of the
misleading DCC-made-with-UE connection just formed in reaction
to Tomas speaking about his dreams. Rather, the consciouslymislead Tomas continued to rant and rave that the psychiatrist
had then gone on to say in the movies, when cowboys wore black
to indicate they were bad, this betrayed a racist culture
against Negroes. Yet if the doctor asked the audience not to
picture a white bear, they’d not be able to do so. Instead of
Styles saving Tomas from the internal conflict, as was usually
the case, Tomas himself then began to come up with the conscious
logic required, to consciously decode himself free of the
paradox snare.
Tomas ranted on about how he could just as easily proclaim
it’d been the case that cowboys wore black, because cavemen had
always feared the dark. For they could no longer see the
distracting sunlit World/life they felt they understood. As such
UE had been able to go to work like a projector, projecting
images onto a blank screen. Also, in previous centuries the term
black magic had existed prior whites even knowing black people
existed. The association with night had helped to further scare
them, and the fact was that UE appeared to be a black and gray
mass anyway, the soul as whiteness, and the IG as gold.
Robinson felt empathy for Tomas. A normal person could
simply dismiss such delusional second-rate and deeply flawed
destructive/mental vomit thinking. Not Tomas, and not just
because of his self-doubting, self-quoting job.
Robinson
understood
Tomas’
frustration
over
the
World/life’s
UE-purpose-serving
lies,
and
deeply
flawed
nightmarishly
paradoxical
logic
and
conscious-misleading
definitions, all relating back to only IT’s desire to simply
mislead the conscious thinking processes of all away from the
pure and holy and real truth. All of this of course really
related back to the fact of Tomas nearly having become the very
first Human Reason Victim of IT waiting at the end of the drama
line behind all RO-Culture lies and faulty logic. Tomas was the
type of guy who’d have a heart attack in his late forties as he
succumbed to the stress of taking on all evil-inspired lies of
the human World/life aimed to destroy all conscious life. Just
like the Reason had once nearly used the Postmescic-historystory to argue his conscious life force spirit out of existence
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
314
as a spiritual error. IT had been the ultimate direct critical
attack against conscious-Tomas then?
Yet, this was what these two guys did, just like Robinson
used to do. Work to relate everything they heard and read, back
to IT-waiting to receive at the end of the drama line, behind
all, like a spiral heading down to a truly ugly UE-core. Or else
they used conscious logic to consciously decode themselves free
of the internal conflict/spiritual attack, where they finally
broke the DCC-made-with-UE. Yet kept UE on as the main source of
conscious inspiration so they could go on to do yet more of the
too-same type of so repetitious work on the subject of evil.
Tomas used his knowledge of IT, and his D-Block,-‘61 selfslaughterhouse experience-when he’d very nearly become the very
first Human Reason Victim, to pretend all RO-Culture lies were
attacking him personally-just like Roger’s Reason once so nearly
had. As his UE worked to use the RO-Culture information to bring
his conscious identity crashing down into spiritual ruin DCCmade-with-UE-reformed-style, he, working side by side with
Styles, tried to use conscious decoding to work his way back to
independent conscious sanity, by coming up with the correct and
secure conscious-logic that defeated all UE-inspired, consciouslife-defeating
and
soul-pattern-rupturing
RO-Culture
lies…
responsible for forming DCC-made-with-UE in him in the first
place. Now, even Tomas could not stand the pressure induced by
the paradox snare he’d so abruptly fallen into.
‘That doctor was not the embodiment of the evil human
history argument used by IT in D-Block for why you should allow
the conscious-self to go spiritual extinction so IT benefits
Tomas!’ Styles suddenly said to snap his best friend out of ITall/the near trance, gone on too long for no end gain or
insight. Then there was a long silence in the bugged room. This
silence was only broken by the sound of someone very light
(Styles, no doubt), anxiously pacing up and down the wood floor
in the sparsely furnished house.
Filled with dread as he thought of the fate of Lisa and
baby August, the despairing Robinson could just picture the good
blond man, with the light brown skin and brown eyes, folding his
arms. Then pressing one finger to his near effeminate lips. When
he was off-duty, Styles usually wore white pants, a green shirt
and a light gray cardigan. In such World/life attire, he felt
most comfortable.
‘How long?’ Styles eventually asked.
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
315
The eavesdropping Robinson thought he would be physically
sick. He simply refused to stop listening, for he knew of course
all of this was more important than he and his personal concerns
and so personal mortal World/life connections that were all
delusional, and went back to what was in his own/ed self alone
anyway, PP:FCIC-made-with-IG and DCC-made-with-UE style, and
what he protected out of himself into the external World/life.
No, this was all about the welfare and security of collective
humanity as a whole.
‘Simply don’t know…’ Tomas said quietly. All unconscious
risen primal-UE-mind inspired thought-madness had settled back
down for the moment. Tomas was left weak and sick and his
emotions burnt out. ‘The baby and the mother… The faces were
somewhat hazy. They were covered in an aura, something like the
distinctive glow that surrounds a Hollywood actress in an old
black and white movie… You know what I mean? One of those glows
designed to make her look younger and more pure and innocent
than she really is.’
Robinson couldn’t stand IT anymore. This was his wife and
his baby girl the Postmescic mind God had chosen to focus the
dreaming witch-wretch unholy-bitch the Ethile Infatueata upon,
and which these guys were talking about in such a cold, detached
and calculating way. In reaction to his great self-frustration
and thwarted ambitions, Robinson felt he had to now act fast…
move… move… do anything possible to advance… advance… this IT’s
so paradoxical nightmare towards premature closure. He had to
save what of the human World/life wanted to be saved, and to
make what then remained of the human World/life into the human
World/life the nation of the pure Gods/IG/soul/Collective forces
that are Mother Nature intended it to be… Even if what he did,
later turned out to be a mistake, he had to now do something to
advance, advance… There was simply no more World/life time left
to play around with. He could not afford to waste one minute
more of his so very precious and so very limited time pondering
and calculating and trying to make up his mind…
‘Time,’ Styles was saying. ‘Time has us caught. All I could
ever hope for was to put in my three years of required law
enforcement experience. Then apply to the FBI… While I tried to
work out exactly how to have the status to effectively deal with
this problem of ours alone.’
‘It’s too late,’ sneered Tomas. ‘You and the FBI… What good
would even that do us now? We’re completely lost out of the
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
316
damnation game. Face IT… No one wants to be saved anyway… He or
she is all too busy self-corrupting in the name of what he or
she only like to believe is good times… Everyone is out for the
self-alone… As such no one gives a shit about our screwy ideas
and us… As such we’ll get no help out there… There’s just each
human out for the self and out for his or her own/ed so-called
delusional beliefs… kicking everyone else down who doesn’t
support or benefit the so selfish, self-interested self in some
way…’
Robinson felt strange. There’d been a time when he would
have been intimidated if told he’d have to face The Post/man
down face to face. Now, Styles was stumped. Robinson was not.
Robinson had a whole lot worked out. Robinson had evolved both
The Post/man’s and the Killian Schull essay homework ideas, into
truly significant counter/made-to/measures within a significant
file-R.I.P./unedit still-in-construction blueprint framework.
Then Tomas said… ‘If there’s any such thing as a force of
pure good divined IG/soul/Inora/Collective forces that are
Mother Nature fate, as much as we know there is a pure evil
UE/Postmescic-force of fate, we’ve not benefited… Maybe we’re
not Players after all… Maybe we’re just not good enough… It’s
some other guys… We’ve only been thwarted at every turn… Not one
piece of good fortune in this so evil-purpose serving human
World/life to remind us of the soul… and the concept of there
being a pure Inora-mind-God… opposed to the UE that communicates
there is a Postmescic-mind-God every time we run foul of UE-run
World/life social scenes that as such drive us, compel us to
believe we’ll only be rewarded by evil for serving evil. As far
as good fortune is concerned, we’ve never benefited… In fact,
we’ve probably got far less of it than the average unsavory
character out in the street… As we should well know when we
actually have a good idea of how many criminals are actually
caught compared to those who get off Scott free…’
Robinson took off his headphones. He put on his cowboy hat.
There could be no better World/life opportunity presented than
this for he to go knocking on the NO.11 front door.
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
317
PART 6
(OF 6-PARTS)
Robinson overturned the armchair he had basically slept in,
ate in, sat in, and had rotted away in, for the last month.
Cello-taped to the bottom of this most particular chair was a
large white envelope. It had once contained his medical file.
Today, it contained his old Sheriff credentials; copies of the
real coroners’ reports on the people Roger had murdered;
photographs of the Reason sundered remains of Dorothy Philpot
and the panhandler Jack Riley; and photographs of officer Dobbin
and the A2-jailhouse wall with a big gaping cavity in it
revealing clear daylight and marking Roger’s escape route on the
August 9th 1964-day. There was also photographs’ of the barred
A2-cell-window just after it had been flung down onto the bunk
beds, and had crashed all the way down through the beds to the
floor. The white envelope also contained the 38 anonymous
Post/man letters Styles had once sent to Robinson, and the
Graphologists inconclusive results on the handwriting samples.
Dobbin had robbed all other physical evidence.
Tomas was presently bitching and moaning that in a human
World/life as evil as this one was, they were never going to
succeed. Every UE-human pawn would unconsciously conspire to
stop them from succeeding. Tomas also proclaimed Styles to be as
arrogant as he was stupid if he dared to believe in
predetermined signs of genuine spiritual pure powers left in
this universe by the nation of the pure Gods… by way of the
Inora mind God working through conscious souls and IGs… for
anyone who was good enough to find and use… no more than the
Postmescic mind God used UE.
Robinson was already crossing the street to the NO.11
house. By this late date in the damnation game, Robinson was in
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
318
a cancer-riddled body. Yet he now fully intended to become the
sign that would come to self-personify the hand of pure
Inora/IG/soul fate in Styles’ mind, i.e. a man-the physical
personification of pain, suffering and misfortune, who worked
directly for a pure Inora-mind-God. As such, he was the pure
Inora-mind-God’s main good man on Earth.
In reality he knew that there was no point to suffering
whatsoever. In reality, humanity only suffered so much because
of UE causing humanity to self-punish for not creating the fair
and just human World/life intended for humanity to self-create
for itself to serve collectively by the nation of the pure Gods.
Yet, Robinson also knew all about Styles and Tomas and how
much the two men each had to suffer individually through their
self-destructive relationship, so the two men might work out the
intended spiritual laws and truths so the human World/life
intended to exist by the nation of the pure Gods might then be
self-created through proper teachings. As such, he hoped they’d
see this destructive relationship self-designed by the two men
for the two men to each go through to ultimately get to the
truth, in Robinson-their want-a-be adopted spiritual dream
father-really a character based on Derek Styles work.
Tomas was still ranting loud enough to be heard out in the
street. Robinson knocked as loudly as he dared on the NO.11
front door. His bulging envelope was thrust under his bony arm.
It was likely Styles and Tomas would have seen Robinson in
the flesh a few years ago. If so, they certainly wouldn’t
recognize him by this sunny July 1966 World/life morning. This
was why he had brought his old Silver Springs Sheriff’s
credentials along with him. He had once been a healthy stranger,
Styles and Tomas should remember. The two men would have
informed an impression of him. In the face of the wasted
Robinson, whose big face and wide jaw no longer looked like a
sign of strength now that he was a skinny, lanky man, the two
orphans would just have to build up an entirely new impression
of him from scratch. They would do so while influenced by
Robinson. Just like one of those glow’s Tomas had described
covering an actress in an old black and white Hollywood movie.
Certainly, this was what Robinson now felt like. A
World/life wearied traveler and ancient actor, as good as rotten
as a corpse, and hiding behind his smile. He came though
offering the opportunity of premature and quick advancement to
Styles and Tomas up this World/life’s great promotion ladder.
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
319
Robinson banged the knocker one final time. It was Rick
Derek Styles who finally pulled open the front door. Styles’
eyelids widened. Like a cunning actor/salesman, offering
strangers the chance to realize deeply personal dreams for freeso all of humanity might ultimately benefit even if the
strangers didn’t, Robinson looked knowingly at the confused
Styles. ‘It’s really me you know.
‘You were rite to send me those 38-Post/man letters all
those years ago. You were rite to believe eventually, I’d have
no choice but to see enough of IT, for I to have to now come
back to pay you dividends.’
‘Inora mind God,’ said Styles.
‘No, not quiet…’ Independent maverick Robinson, was finally
now about to bow to becoming a mavericker, who branded stock,
not by searing flesh… but by using the concept of necessary
dreams being allowed to be self-fulfilled, to sear the soul. And
yet all three men would always know IT could only be the
State/mind Postmescic/Embodiment-hell itself that could name the
asking price, before there could be any hope of actually
realizing those file-R.I.P./unedit dreams in IT’s made-mortal
World/life.
The old saying was true. Nothing in this human World/life
was free… There was always an asking price! The complete
opposite to how humanity should conduct itself in a fair and
just World/life of course, where everyone was out to help one
another and there was no asking price and so everyone got
everything for free. People would not then be all out to grab
all for the self-alone and thus ended up with nothing at all
that was worth anything, self-punishment style.
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
320
12
(IN 4-PARTS)
PART 1
(OF 4-PARTS)
Robinson refused to say much in the bugged NO.11 house.
The meeting in the park began that sunny July-1966 morning.
It did not end until that night. It was the first of many
transitional meetings. Robinson decided to give Styles and Tomas
time to get used to the concept of things so abruptly changing
for them so alone. This was like a violent psychological blow to
both Styles and Tomas. Though the men were used to abrupt change
and emotional violence, and every UE-human pawn in the vicinity
looking to beat the conscious life and positive dreams and great
ideas and unique talents out of them, Robinson appeared to
represent the chance for the men to now instantly achieve, what
once would have been very long-term plans for career advancement
in the human World/life. The two men had expected nothing but
constant failure. To so abruptly and completely shatter this
belief beaten into… not the conscious mind… but beaten into the
gut/visceral/emotional levels governed by UE-with the body of
UE-purpose-sanctioned-raised-information
at
its
constant
disposal as a weapon that found constant reinforcement in the
external human World/life… caused the two men to be left
disturbed and confused and at a complete loss. In a way, it was
like they had died in one World/life, in order to make way for
the next.
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
321
Robinson told Styles and Tomas to look Robinson up when
next they wanted to. He gave Styles a hotel room number. Nether
O’Neil or Farrell knew last month Robinson had started to rent
the secluded hotel room-so close to NO.21.
The pressure of having so many dark and deeply personal
secrets so quickly exposed before an outsider… and for once
getting positive reinforcement for hopes and dreams and positive
thoughts… ensured Tomas was left with a blinding migraine that
plagued him all day.
That night Robinson had Styles and Tomas drive him back to
the hotel he claimed to be staying at. It was a silent drive.
Stunned and uncertain, Styles and Tomas sat up front in the
under/cover-man’s car. Looking relaxed, Robinson sat slouched in
the rear seat. Styles drove through an area full of criminals
and prostitutes. Styles and Tomas were well used to working in
this area. Robinson betrayed a lot by his reaction. Robinson saw
the UE/sin-full of the fixed and irreversible hate/revenge drive
always aimed to upset the intended plan and to cause humanity as
much self-harm as was possible as the real cause, not the
conscious-sinner. This was the Paradox Snare. The sinner lived
in a failed World/life that as such had to self-magnify the UEinspired hate/revenge drive to upset the intended plan in the
sinner. Then negative, unfair and unjust UE-inspired World/life
dramatic event/circumstances could give UE in the sinner near
endless opportunities to pass UE-inspired evil judgments over to
the conscious mind then consciously cultivated and acted upon in
the name of self-satisfying the UE-inspired hate/revenge drive
to cause humanity as much self-harm as was possible. Thus the
intended fair and just World/life would always be stopped from
coming to be out of the present failed World/life that existed
and as such caused the UE-hate/revenge drive to be selfmagnified in all.
Just as had been prophesized back in the RO-engine dead
house when he had stood viewing the three wise monkeys ornament
in a near trance, it wouldn’t take long for Robinson to form a
close relationship with these two ex-RO-orphans. Every time
Robinson reacted correctly to World/life event/circumstances,
Styles and Tomas would immediately understand how like-minded
all three men were by this late stage in the damnation game. In
reality, the two orphans were constantly put back in touch with
how they had once self-perceived and felt about Derek Styles’
imagined identity.
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
322
PART 2
(OF 4-PARTS)
He had a few hours rest in his hotel room. Robinson was on
foot when he finally headed back up Bishop Street. He had
suggested to Styles and Tomas to call in sick, rather than show
up for the nightshift. He had suggested that until they’d had at
least a full night to sleep on IT and self-process IT to some
degree, they should not talk to each other about what had been
talked about on this day. He was by now even more self-convinced
he had found the rite divined good Player men, to aid him in his
so
very
earthly
goals.
Listening
in
on
their
bugged
conversations was one thing. Looking the men in the eyes, and
talking about the Postmescic mind God, and self-judging their
reactions, was quiet another.
He passed NO.11. He saw no car in the drive. He suspected
rightly only Tomas had reported in sick to work. Tomas was
suffering a blinding migraine that had started early this
morning. It had continued all day. Robinson knew by way of soulpulsations of pure imagery that let him know how a fellow good
man thought, it had been Styles who had disregarded Robinson’s
advice. No doubt Styles’ driving and relentless ambition to
safely resolve all of this business of theirs alone as soon as
was humanly possible, was renewed with a new self-intensity.
Robinson was greatly pleased by Styles’ reaction to their first
meeting. Every time Robinson used his soul to daydream about how
Styles would act in the face of the truth, these daydreams
turned out to represent the way Styles was acting, and had
acted. This was quiet a turn around. If Robinson ever tried to
work out how everyone else, i.e. the UE-human pawns would act,
it was his UE that let him know in advance.
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
323
The moon was all but full in the night sky. The reflected
sunlight seemed to be tightly wound about the moon. The lightstrangled moon looked like it was the light source. On his way
into NO.21, Robinson noted the master bedroom curtains and the
blinds were drawn open. The streetlights caused the nightblackened window to reflect light freckles, surrounding an
orange glow generated inside the master bedroom. Upstairs, the
FBI-Agents must have only the table-lamp turned on.
He crept in the back doorway. He was struck by the foul
odor. In the nightlight, he noted his personal garbage was
disturbed. Every Monday morning, while Styles and Tomas were
sleeping off their nightshift, or out doing day-work, Robinson
had O’Neil exchange the NO.11 garbage with identical bags of
garbage. Robinson then went through the trash looking for any
clues in his bid to work out how Styles and Tomas really thought
and lived. These particular bags had been clearly opened in
haste, and then clumsily resealed. Once unstuck, the bindingtags Robinson used left most of their glue-residue on the bagplastic. This betrayed if anyone else had been at the garbage.
This was the very reason he always used these particular tags.
STYLE
IS WHAT IRREVERSIBLE TRUTH
A UNIQUE AND FLEXIBLE AND INDEPENDENT CONSCIOUS-MIND
MAKES OUT OF WHAT IS OF A FIXED AND OF A STANDARD DESIGN
IN EACH AND EVERY UNCONSCIOUS HUMAN MIND/NATURE…
RICK DEREK STYLES IS A MAN WITH A CONSCIOUS SPIRIT
WITH SUCH GOOD AND PURE PROPERTIES
WITH THE INBREED BELIEF REGARDING THE ACTUALITY
OF THE REALITY OF TRULY IMMORTAL SPIRITUAL WORLD/LIFE
HE HAS NEVER REALLY ACCEPTED HE LIVES
IN THIS MORTAL WORLD/LIFE AT ALL
BUT IS MERELY LIKE A TOURIST PASSING THROUGH
ON THE WAY TO SOMEPLACE SO MUCH BETTER…
SELF-TRAINED AS A LAWYER, STYLES KNOWS
GIVEN WHAT HAPPENED ON THIS THING OF OURS ALONE
THE STATE AND GOVERNMENT MAN MADE LAWS OF THE LAND
ARE JUST NOT GOOD ENOUGH
AND SO, SOME DAY, MUST ALL BE BROKEN AND REMADE A FRESH
IF STYLES IS TO ONE DAY DEFINE THE REAL TRUTH
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
324
THAT MADE THE WORLD/LIFE THIS WAY
AND YET HE KNOWS HE MUST NEVER HANG THE RO-OUTLAWS FOR REAL…
SO THEN, THERE CAN FINALLY BE SOME HOPE FOR TRUE SURVIVAL…
AND AS SUCH…
DESPITE YOUR ADVICE TO STYLES EARLIER THIS SUNNY DAY
HE KNOWS HE HAS, AND IS TO GREATLY SELF-SUFFER ANYWAY
SO HE MAY AS WELL SELF-SUFFER TOTAL SELF-SACRIFICE
FOR A TRULY GREAT WORK
AND SO HE HAS DECIDED RATHER THAN GET SOME WELL REQUIRED
DEEP DREAM SLEEP AND A/REST
HE SHOULD RETURN OUT THERE TO DO WHAT HE KNOWS BEST
AND CARES ABOUT THE MOST
UNDER/COVER, ON HIS NIGHT SHIFT
CONSTANTLY WATCHED OVER
BY ARMED OFFICERS OF THE MAN MADE LAW OF THE LAND
IN HIDING BEHIND THE CRIMINALS WORLD/LIFE SOCIAL SCENES
AND STYLES THEN ANOTHER HUSTLER OUT AND ABOUT THE STREETS
SIDE-BY-SIDE, ACTING AND REACTING WITH, AND LAUGHING AT
THE DEMONIC JOKERS OF THE CRIMINAL TYPE THAT ARE
THE PARTICULAR PITIFUL POSTMESCIC HELL’S OWN/ED STEREOTYPES/
DEMONIC JOKERS/ROTTEN-RO-HEART
DEMONIC SPIRITUAL CLOCKWORK HORROR TIME-PEACEKEEPING TOYS
ON THIS CARING MAN’S GRAVE/YARD WATCH
AND HE UNDER CONTROLLED WORLD/LIFE EVENT/CIRCUMSTANCES
THAT PHYSICALLY PROTECT HIM SO-ALONE
HUSTLING OUT OF HIM AND HER NOT MONEY
THAT IS THE SO CALLED ROOT OF HIS AND HER EVIL
BUT INFORMATION AND DESTRUCTIVE UE-INSPIRED DELUSIONS
OF THE TYPE THAT MAKE HIM AND HER TICK
IN ORDER TO MAKE HIM MORE SELF-LEARNED OF HELL‘S WAYS
AND SELF-PREPARED THEN
FOR ANY POSSIBLE NEGATIVE REACTION TO WORLD/LIFE EVENTS AND IT
HE MIGHT HAVE
ANYTIME IT TURNS TRULY ALIEN WORLD/LIFE EVENT/CIRCUMSTANCES
HIS WAY
TO THE EXTENT EVEN THE CRIMINALS OUT THERE
THE POSTMESCIC HELL’S OWN/ED STEREOTYPE/DEMONIC JOKERS
ARRESTED BY HIM AND SERVING TIME
HAVE NICKED HIM AMONG HIS AND HER SELF
THE PRIEST ALWAYS WITH CONFESSION-TIME
GIVEN JUST HOW MUCH HE TRIES TO GET TO KNOW HIM AND HER
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
325
AND HIS AND HER WORLD/LIFE TALES INSIDE AND OUT
WHEN INSIDE OR OUTSIDE, THE COURTROOM AND JAIL!
FOR KNOWING THE PRE-SET PATTERNS UE FOLLOWS ARE INALTERABLE
STYLES IS OF THE OPINION THAT UE
-ORIGINAL SIN
-A-BEING SELF-CONVINCED BEYOND DOUBT
THAT ALL CONSCIOUS MINDS MAY BE LEAD TO SELF-PERDITION
THROUGH BLACK POSTMESCIC ARTS PREDICTIONS
MEANS THEN UE IS ALSO EXPLOITABLE TO FALLING VICTIM TO BELIEF
IN HIS FICTIONAL/UNDERCOVER POST/MAN’S ACT
AND IN THAT STYLES LAYS A PARADOX SNARE OF HIS OWN/ED
TO USE EVIL TO BETRAY THE REAL-TRUTH OF EVIL
TO HIM SO ALONE
AND BEFORE UNIVERSAL JUDGMENT DAY ARRIVES FOR ALL
HE’LL DIG HIMSELF A SPIRITUAL HOLE
BUT WITH A WAY BACK OUT!
BUT ON THIS NEAR FULL-MOON LIT NIGHT
OF MOON-CAST AND REFLECTED STOLEN SUNLIGHT
STYLES IS NOT THE ONLY ONE
OUT SEARCHING AND SUFFERING THROUGH THE WORKS REQUIRED
TO GATHER THE EVIDENCE TO PROPERLY DEFINE IT
BEFORE UNIVERSAL JUDGMENT DAY ARRIVES FOR ALL
JUSTLY AS MUCH AS IT BELIEVES
THE WORK REQUIRED TO PROPERLY DEFINE IT
WILL GIVE RISE TO IT’S OPPORTUNITY
TO DEFEAT STYLES THROUGH SELF-PERDITION
WHEN STYLES WORKS TOO HARD ON THE SUBJECT OF EVIL
AND FINALLY FALLS TO SPIRITUAL SELF-CORRUPTION
PRIOR UNIVERSAL JUDGMENT DAY’S ARRIVAL FOR ALL!
NO ROBINSON!
THIS TIME IT HAS BEEN
TWO OF POSTMESCIC HELL’S OWN/ED STEREOTYPES/DEMONIC JOKERS
ROTTEN-RO-HEART/DEMONIC SPIRITUAL-CLOCKWORK HORROR
TIME-PEACEKEEPING TOYS
WITH NEITHER THE LEGAL, MORAL, OR SPIRITUAL WORLD/LIFE RITE
AND JOINTLY IN IT TOGETHER
REINFORCING EACH OTHERS SO FOOLHARDY SELF-DETERMINATION
TO PROVE THEIR OWN/ED WORTH
ONLY TO THEIR OWN/ED SO VERY ROTTEN-RO-HEART SELVES ALONE
WHO HAVE BEEN MEDDLING IN YOUR DEEPLY PERSONAL BUSINESS/
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
326
PSYCHIC TRASH
EVER SINCE THEY SPIED ON YOU ONLY THIS MORNING
KNOCKING ON THE NO.11 FRONT DOOR
AND YOU SO KNOWLEDGEABLE THAT YOU WERE ABLE TO SO SUDDENLY
STEP INTO THE DEREK STYLES CHARACTER
AND EXUDE SUCH A CONFIDENT SPIRITUAL AURA
THAT YOU SHATTERED THEIR OLD UE-INSPIRED
HATE/REVENGE-DRIVEN WORLD/LIFE-VIEW OF YOU
AS A NATURAL BORN CONSCIOUS-FOOL!
NOW YOU KNOW, MIGHTY ROBINSON
FROM YOUR DEEPLY PERSONAL WORLD/LIFE EXPERIENCE
OF ENDLESSLY TRYING TO GATHER ALL EVIDENCE
THERE CAN EVER BE OF IT
AND AT SUCH DEEPLY PERSONAL COST…
AT OFT TIMES
THE POSTMESCIC MIND GOD’S JUSTICE IS THE ONLY TRUE JUSTICE
THAT CAN EVER BE JUSTLY DEALT OUT
ON AN ILLEGAL BUGGING OPERATION SUCH AS THIS ONE IS!
He felt a cold and brooding and blistering UE-rage rising
from the unconscious depths, in order to tightly focus his
conscious-mind into accepting the terrible judgmental UE thought
that the two FBI-Agents under his command, deserved to die, and
most brutally. He withdrew his old Silver Springs Sheriff’s
silver revolver with the pearl white grips. He made his slow but
deliberate way through the dark house.
He limped up the staircase. He was not really conscious of
his limp anymore, or that the moonlight looked as silver as his
revolver was in the daylight. Due to his cancer invaded lungs
filling with fluids, his breath was a rasping wheeze. Despite
his urge to wheeze, he succeeded in being as quiet as a church
mouse. No one heard him coming. He had lived with his disease
long enough to know how to control the wheeze.
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
327
PART 3
(OF 4-PARTS)
He found Agent O’Neil and Agent Farrell both sitting
rigidly on the chairs located in the surveillance room/master
bedroom. They had their backs to him. As he had suspected, only
the table-lamp was turned on. Its light was reflected in the
blackened window-glass. Utterly entranced in his work, O’Neil
was listening in on the bugged NO.11 house where Tomas was
surely still trying to sleep off his migraine. The obviously
fascinated and yet horrified Farrell was intensely listening in
near demonic glee to the old surveillance tapes he had found.
Derek Styles’ 38 diaries and notebooks had all obviously been
riffled through, and in a most disrespectful manner. The
curtains and blinds had been drawn open, so O’Neil or Farrell
might hope to see Robinson returning home.
Though the night-blackened window reflected his profile
amidst the light, they didn’t have a clue Robinson was already
home. He stood directly behind them, where he so coolly regarded
them. O’Neil and Farrell were held so spellbound by the freakish
information they had unearthed, even if Robinson had not sneaked
back keeping to the shadows and using the night as his selfcamouflage, the two so-called Special Agents would have failed
to identify him returning.
He stood in the open doorway. He opened the gun’s multichambered silver cylinder. He turned the revolver upside down.
The six bullets interned within clattered to the floor.
The startled Agents immediately spun around. They pulled
off their headphones. They were rendered too stunned to speak.
‘Hear anything of interest, little church mice O’KNEEL,
FARE/WELL?’ under his cowboy hat, a crooked profile, he smiled
out at them through the nightlight. Just as he had been when
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
328
Styles had driven him back to his hotel, he was real calm. Yet,
by now he was consciously accepting his cold and brooding UEinspired judgmental-hate/revenge-driven fury, his conscious
thought patterns all but self-transfixed and directed by IT-all.
‘Those guys are crazy… utterly crazy!’ O’Neil said.
‘Aren’t we all?’ He directed his calm but cold eyes to his
Sheriff’s revolver one could expect to see in a John Wayne
movie. He slipped his hand into his pocket. He removed two fat
silver bullets he had personally fashioned out of melted down
silver. Michael Riordan was a competitive shooter. He practiced
enough to be top man on any FBI firing range. Michael liked to
personally load his ammunition more for the sense of selfempowerment it gave to him, than to save on costs. Michael had
shown Robinson how to add in enough gunpowder to increase a
bullet’s velocity over the velocity of a regular store bought
bullet, and FBI-regulations for bullets. Robinson had asked to
use Michael’s equipment in private for a short World/life time
period. Robinson had only had the two silver bullets to make.
Robinson’s silver bullet-heads had lead cores. They topped the
standard cartridges. The bullet-heads were fat. They were just
over one and a half cm long. These silver bullets were his
artist’s self-interpretation of the type of silver bullet Roger
Madican James-the kid, had once described in his Killian Scott
Thomas Schull essay as being carried around in a gentleman’s
gold-coffin-shaped-pistol attached to the end of one of the
rotten-RO-heart pocket watch chains. The second spare silverbullet was stored in the back of the rotten-RO-heart pocket
watchcase. This bullet was made to look like it was apart of the
pocket watch’s natural décor, until the silver bullet was
removed.
‘O’KNEEL! FARE/WELL! YOU’VE FORCED MY HAND TO REACT! SO NOW
I MUST REACT TO YOU! You guys know I’m dying… Don’t try to deny
IT you sneak church mice! This operation is my church! The truth
is, I’m riddled with an alien’s cancer! I’m wasting away by the
day, if not the hour! So I keep these two silver-bullets with
me, in case things get too tough, even in my own/ed church, and
I decide it’s funeral World/life time for me… and the first
silver-bullet fails to kill me… while after… There’ll be no
question of suspicion to fall on anyone else. I’ll have killed
myself with my own/ed handmade silver bullets. No one could
mistake one of my bullets as anything but my own/ed personal
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
329
self-fashioned property! Guess then, I’m a real gentleman,
Killian Scott Thomas Schull-essay style.’
He inserted the two silver bullets into two of the
revolver’s chambers. He spun the chambers like a roulette wheel.
He slammed the chambers back into his weapon. He cocked back the
hammer. He aimed the powerful gun at O’Neil’s fat nose.
‘Jesus Christ! No! Don’t point that thing at me you crazy
bastard!’ O’Neil cried out. ‘I’ll tell them… I’ll tell Styles
and Tomas what you are really planning…’
He pulled the trigger. The hammer struck an empty chamber.
The gun was loaded. It really could have fired. His UE-inspired
judgmental-hate/revenge-backed
rage
was
fully
consciously
cultivated for he was not out to upset the intended plan like
the two FBI agents were, but to ensure the intended plan could
be put into World-order to make a new World-order. Yet, at the
most distant level, he always had the conscious option not to
respond to IT in waking World/life reality. In direct contrast,
these two FBI agents had spent what few years they had on the
job dealing with criminals who always followed through on such
UE-inspired hate/revenge-backed judgmental rage as if there was
no conscious choice in the matter. These two agents knew if one
made a threat in prison, one had no choice but to back it up
with physical action, for whoever received the threat took it as
Gospel. Equally, the two agents themselves were run by UE. They
couldn’t then tell the difference then between fact and fiction,
actor/salesman-role-playing from reality. Or else they felt they
couldn’t accord to take the risk of deciding if they were rite
or wrong about Robinson and his intentions, as long as
Robinson’s eyes were gleaming with such pure evil inspired
judgmental hate/revenge-backed rage.
‘O Jesus!’ O’Neil screamed at the sound that echoed around
in the small and dark master bedroom.
‘Bet you feel so very mortally alive now,’ Robinson said.
‘Too alive, too truly hate me anymore, you cowering dog… lowly
filth of Postmescic mortality sinner?’
Farrell looked on in terror. ‘You’re really dying… you
really are that crazy? You really intend to use those two
confused, and unfortunate orphaned guys, to…’
‘Damned rite/ly, church mice! You two thieves, and
troublemakers, talk now, to me, about misfortune?’ he said as he
pointed the gun at Farrell’s face. ‘So I’ve got nothing left to
lose when I find two potential sneaky church mice in my own/ed
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
330
house… who might spoil all the fun on me during my last handful
of so very earthly World/life days!’ After he had fired at
O’Neil, the gun had clicked on an empty chamber. No exploding
bullet had caused the hammer to jolt back so the gun could be
fired again just by pulling the trigger. As such, Robinson now
thumbed back the hammer for a second time. Farrell peed in his
pants.
‘Don’t be ashamed boy,’ Robinson said. ‘I reckon it won’t
be long before I’ll be wearing dippers. You see I’ll be messing
myself in my sleep. I’ll have to be looked after, by my pig
bitch wife Lisa. She hates my guts, and loves my fatal disease.
I picture her like some gallstone-hard maggoty old witch’s wart
embedded in my brain, and around which all stress revolves!
‘Yah, back in them old World/life days, on the farm, we
took them pigs to the slaughterhouse. Made a good living out of
them to. You know why I’m telling you guys this, don’t you?’
Slowly, Farrell shook his head to indicate…
NO! HE DIDN’T KNOW! HOW COULD HE?
A helpless onlooker, O’Neil stared wide-eyed.
Whatever conscious spirit of compassion had animated
Robinson when he had been knocking on the NO.11 front door only
this morning while he had been playing his favorite fictional
character that was only his interpretation of the identity of
Derek Styles, and based only on Derek’s written work, was now
utterly gone/vacated. The man with the cowboy hat standing erect
in the master bedroom doorway was nothing but a shadowy figure
that stank of spiritual rage and mortal death.
‘I’m admitting to you two guys, I reckon in no World/life
time at all, I’m going to be messing my own/ed self in my own/ed
dying man’s bed… because dead men like you two guys, won’t be
telling no embarrassing tales to the living! And peeing in your
pants, Farrell, and humiliating yourself, won’t save you at all.
You see, I see no embarrassment in that, here tonight, in the
dark, out of sight of the rest of the human World/life!
‘Death is death, after all. Humiliation is in my view, very
good for an arrogant man to know! IT helps with the breaking of
DCC-made-with-UE connections and self-training him not to wish
to
humiliate
others.
Back
on
the
farm,
outside
the
slaughterhouse, I saw plenty of them pig animals react the exact
same way with no shame at all! Little thieving, troublemaking
church mice, I reckon, are no different!’
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
331
‘No!’ Farrell dared to gasp. Robinson aimed the gun at
Farrell’s left eyeball. ‘We won’t talk to those guys about what
we found out about you! I swear we won’t! No matter how terrible
your plans for them two, are!’
JINGLE JANGLE
DID GHOSTLY DOBBIN CRACK
HIS OWN/ED SELF-HANGED DUMMY’S NECK
SO HIS CORPSE MIGHT THEN BE LAID DOWN
IN HIS OWN/ED PREMATURE, SELF-FATED, SELF-SCRIPTED GRAVE BED
AND ALL IN-ORDER
SO HE MIGHT THEN BE ABLE TO TRY TO BREAK THE UNIVERSAL CODE…
NOW YOU TWO ARE BOWED DOWN UNDER
TO ACTING OUT THE POSTMESCIC MIND GOD’S CONCEPT
OF TRUEST JUSTICE
WITH THE SILVER BULLET READY IN CHAMBER
TO BE FIRED ON YOUR ORDER, SO YOU MAY MAKE TO ORDER
YOUR VERY FIRST MORTAL SIN OF COLD BLOODED MURDER
THAT CAN EVER BE THE ONLY ORDER OF THE DAY
WHEN DEALING WITH THESE CHURCH MICE
SNEAK, GARBAGE THIEVING BASTARDS!
Unmoved by, and blind to Farrell’s conscious humanity,
Robinson pulled the trigger at the intended moment. The gun
exploded with a deafening blast. It left his ears ringing. As he
had done when he had pulled the trigger when aiming his weapon
at O’Neil, at the last possible World/life second he had
adjusted his aim by the tiniest of fractions and margins. The
shadows had disguised the physical movement.
The silver-bullet whizzed straight through Farrell’s hair.
It erupted through the wood wall. At a downward angle, it headed
outwards into the front garden. Outside, the front-garden tree
shivered like a human would against the cold. The tree shed a
few leaves that fell lazily down to the short lawn-grass,
betraying only the silver bullet-head’s flight had ended
somewhere in the tough tree bark.
Robinson of course had long since come to understand that
if he formed a morally bankrupt and evil state of mind in
response to evil World/life event/circumstances, once, then of
course practice and discipline could ensure Robinson the
actor/salesman could reform that exact same morally bankrupt
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
332
state of mind at will… And to the extent he could self-convince
any other human in the vicinity the morally bankrupt state of
mind he was in, was real. He would then self-convince the
onlooker the state of mind would in fact define him and any
future World/life decision he made, and IT was not just the work
of yet another experienced World/life actor. These men were
looking at the Robinson who had dealt with Postmescic-Roger down
in the under/ground jailhouse August-9TH–1964, and after been
shot in the leg Robinson had considered shooting Patrick Watkins
dead. Equally, due to how he knew UE-human pawns such as these
two could and would always add to Postmescic-IT-all, he really
did hold them both as beings with no rite to continue World/life
with the rest of the good amidst humanity. They picked up on
this at an unconscious level.
DARE YOU NOW TRY TWO PLAY THE PART
OF AN EXPERIENCED ACTOR/SALESMAN
ON THIS IT’S MADE-WORLD/LIFE STAGE…
PLAYING THE PART OF A DERANGED MADMAN SO WELL
YOU EVEN SELF-CONVINCED I, YOUR OWN/ED-BODY-OF-UE-MIND
YOU WERE READY TO COMMIT YOUR VERY FIRST MORTAL SINS
OF COLD BLOODED MURDER/RUSSIAN ROULETTE STYLE…
…BUT THERE-IN LIES THE REAL WORLD/LIFE TRUTH OF THE LESSON
SO, SO SMUG MIGHTY ROBINSON
WHO ONCE WAS THE FARM BOY THREE WISE MONKEY ORNAMENT MAKER
WHO GREW TO BE THE MAN-MADE LAW OF THE LAND BREAKING LAWMAN
IN THIS UNIVERSAL STATE OF EMERGENCY
FOR YOU ARE BUT ONE MAN AMIDST THE BILLIONS OF HUMANS OUT THERE
WHO UNLIKE YOU, ARE SO CONSCIOUSLY MORALLY BANKRUPT
ANY EXCUSE IS ENOUGH FOR THE UE-INSPIRED HATE/REVENGE DRIVE
TO GROW AND FESTER
SO THE MASSES MIGHT BRING YET ANOTHER DOWN
AND SO HE AND SHE WILL MOST SURELY TAKE
YOUR FICTIONAL ACTOR/SALESMAN’S WORKS
ACTED OUT ON THE REAL WORLD/LIFE STAGE
SERIOUSLY ENOUGH, TO ENSURE GRAVE HARM IS VISITED UPON YOU
IN THE FUTURE
AND YOU ARE HANGED FOR REAL
FOR YOUR FICTIONAL, SELF-CRITICAL-MIND
THAT IS YET CENETRED WITHIN THE ONLY TOO, TOO REAL
MORTAL WORLD/LIFE ARENA STAGE
WHERE ANY GROUP OF PEOPLE AUTOMATICALLY AND BLINDLY FOLLOWING
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
333
PRIMAL-UE-MIND-INSPIRED COMPULSIONS OF A UE OF A STANDARD DESIGN
CONSTITUTES AN UNCONSCIOUS CONSPIRACY…
AND NEVER MEANINGLESS MADNESS…
The DCC-made-with-UE was broken. The intended World/life
performance had been successfully sold to his audience upon IT’s
self-spun, self-made so mortal World/life stage. Robinson was no
longer paying any heed to his spiritually dead UE surging away
in the unconscious-background. He was more aware of the
destructive series of UE-risen thoughts that had ultimately lead
conscious-him into forming such a morally bankrupt state of mind
in the first place…
The Postmescic-Roger-related World/life experiences… Back
to the Post/man letters… Back to Theresa James’ burnt corpse and
he trying to help Roger… Back to he playing the role of Sheriff…
Back to his sister Mary calling him John Wayne after he had shot
a hole in the headboard above Dexter’s head… Back to all the
Hollywood movies he had watched that tried to pretend evil was
good, and a tough guy like John Wayne was who he should strive
to be… And throughout it all, all the type of evil fantasies and
thoughts he had consciously cultivated out of his UE in reaction
to such negative external World/life stimuli… until ultimately
he had formed states of mind when there had hardly been any
conscious life home, just UE-inspired thinking and violent
compulsions… until for some reason he had then broken the DCCmade-with-UE…
The primal-UE-mind inspired thoughts faded out. He figured
if he played his cards rite, this little earthly World/life
scene would never get the chance to return at a later date to
self-haunt him, when other people, always looking for any old
excuse to indulge the UE-hate/revenge-drive, insisted the
fictional character he had just played had been the real him. He
simply lent the destructive emotions UE now raised in him, to
the task of he ensuring he now give a good enough performance
for O’Neil and Farrell to buy his act… and so he should succeed
in altering their perception of reality… and so altar what they
chose to do in the future in regard to their memories of
Robinson, and all the unholy information they had discovered
here tonight.
‘I’m going to give you guys one last World/life chance!’ he
said real quietly and calmly. ‘Tonight, you will leave this
house and never return. There are no official records to state
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
334
any of us, or this illegal covert bugging operation was ever
even here to set-up-store in the first place! So you will never,
ever speak about this most particular World/life situation
again. You will leave all the bugs and surveillance equipment
with me. You will simply disappear from my World/life! You will
turn up at your original supervisor’s office tomorrow.’
This would be Michael Riordan. Robinson did not say so,
because he knew the FBI-Agents knew full well, Robinson was
aware Michael Riordan was their original supervisor. As such the
FBI-agents would be more inclined to be uncertain how far
Robinson’s influence extended inside the Bureau.
‘I will see to IT you are reassigned elsewhere! But if I
ever get wind you have talked about anything that went on in
this house… Or that you have ever even mentioned my name, or the
names of Rick Derek Styles, and Stephen Tomas, in this
World/life of ours alone, I will personally come back to hunt
you down. I will then burn you alive with one of my World War
Two flamethrowers! And you know I will! You know I’ve got
nothing left to lose, given what you two sneak thieves heard on
those tapes, and read in those hardback notebooks you so
clumsily riffled through… messing up your already foul minds…
forever warping your self-perception of the final universal
reality!’
Shocked into belief, the two FBI-agents nodded slowly, now
very glad of the World/life reprieve.
‘All
rite,’
Robinson
said.
‘Get
the
State/mind
Postmescic/Embodiment-Reason-weaving-hell on out of here! Get,
you so lowly sinner dogs! Get!’
The young FBI-agents fled the master bedroom. As they were
hurrying down the staircase, Robinson stepped onto the landing.
He held his revolver in his rite hand. His rite arm was finally
relaxed so it hung parallel to his side. ‘Remember!’ he rasped
from beneath his big and broad cowboy hat that cast a shadow on
his so very human cancer riddled face. He was so wasted away by
the alien’s cancer, and so full of tumors, he somehow looked
like a cockeyed shadow of a man, already half of the other-side
of the grave, when standing at the top of the staggering
staircase. Certainly, he exuded an aura that seemed to compel
the FBI-agents to believe he had long since seen far beyond to
the other-side of the earthly grave. As such he had little
respect for any human World/life left inside him, and he thought
of himself as a spiritual law onto himself.
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
335
At the foot of the staircase, the two FBI-agents froze.
They looked back up at the brooding figure, still watching them.
He was so unnaturally calm in his fury. It was terrifying to see
a man, who was clearly dying, and on the verge of meeting his
own/ed maker, and yet apparently out and about the State/mind
Postmescic/Embodiment-hell’s own/ed business tonight.
‘Forget! Forget me! Forget this IT’s World/life case!’ By
saying these particular words he strengthened his DCC-made-withUE. As such he appeared even fiercer, a true sinner butcherer
that was what the forces that are Collective Mother Nature
wished these two men to befall anyway, death and self-named
spiritual extinction. Yet Robinson had no intention of selfcorrupting himself. Mother Nature would just have to wait until
the two men died to be self-punished. ‘Forget this NO.21 house!
None of IT ever happened! None of IT ever existed! I’m not alone
in any of this! I didn’t climb the Bureau’s ranks so quickly for
nothing!
‘What is IT you dumb monkeys like to think? The Bureau
raised me up the ranks, just because I was dying, and made a
last minute World/life request to a friend? I’ve got some old
news to share with you two monkeys then! Every last man’s got to
die, isn’t no big deal!’ He chuckled to think of the two FBIagents rendered so stupid due to the type of UE-inspired
hate/revenge drive that had long since destroyed all pure and
rational conscious thought in them. ‘I’ve got a loyal man out
there, in NO.11. He has such an inbreed belief in all that is
good and simply rite in his conscious soul he knows it is
possible to live forever beyond this caging mortal World/life.
He is as such so very soon going to willfully walk into all out
earthly hell, in the name of proving this belief, even if only
to himself… A true under/cover man, he now acts and reacts with
the damned out in the streets… In order to have betrayed to him
the type of evil delusions running the World/life show, so he
might finally come to understand all primal-UE-mind-inspired
destructive-delusions, and judgments, before universal judgment
day arrives for us one as if all, and so self-prepare both
himself and his only best friend… For he is out to save all…
Even though he himself is good and so should be saved anyway… So
he really does it for people like you two…
‘Then I look at, and think of you two, petty sneak guys…
Trust me, you do not ever want to meet me again! Not in this
most particular World/life at any rate!’
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
336
Empty handed, Agent O’Neil and Agent Farrell were gone out
the open front doorway. The men hurried on foot up the street.
Finally then they were gone into the camouflage of the night.
Robinson was rite to figure he would never again see or
hear from Agent O’Neil and Agent Farrell.
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
337
PART 4
(OF 4-PARTS)
Downstairs, the front door was wide open. When the silver
bullet-head had impacted with the tree, some leaves had fallen
onto the grass. Now, these leaves were abruptly scattered by an
unseen wind. A cold draft blew into the front hall.
He put on the headphones to self-determine Tomas was still
very much lost to sleep. Robinson removed the headphones. He
stood very still. He waited in silence to ensure anyone else,
who might have been disturbed by the sound of the gunshot, did
not come to investigate. All that he took from NO.21 Bishop
Street was one of the portable M2-2 World War Two flamethrowers
and Derek Styles’ 38 diaries and hardback notebooks. The M2-2
flamethrower was housed in a wood crate. He loaded this crate
into the back of his van. He returned for the second
flamethrower. He put on his welder’s protective facial mask and
fireproof gloves that stretched past his elbows. He headed for
the master bedroom. He was so physically weakened and mentally
enfeebled of late, he did not trust himself using the M2-2
without such protection. Though it was a man-portable backpack
flamethrower, with hexagonal gas caps, and hourglass frames,
when filled with four gallons of gasoline fuel and the
propellant Nitrogen, the M2-2 weighed 68-pounds. It was called
the M2-2. M2 was for the tank groups. –2 was for the wand type.
He stood out on the second floor landing. He aimed through
the open doorway. He hosed the master bedroom down with steaks
of obnoxious and flaming gas. They turned even his old armchair
into a searing flame. The M2-2 had an effective range of just
over 65 feet. Within such a small room a fireball quickly
ignited. The flame bent and curled until the whole master
bedroom confines were on fire. The ignited room was so bright,
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
338
even from the upstairs landing, and while wearing his mask, he
finally got to see the actual location of the once camouflaged
and splintered bullet hole, now turning black around its
circumference.
He felt only self-satisfaction to destroy the armchair with
the stuffing protruding from the armrest. He had sat in, and had
rotted away in that armchair for a long time. A month was a very
long World/life time when he knew anytime he went to sleep he
might never wake again. The window behind the Venetian blinds
fractured. It collapsed into tingling glass-shards that littered
the drive and front lawn outside.
JINGLE JANGLE
DID WORK/HORSE DOBBIN’S CONSCIOUS SANITY FINALLY CRACK ENOUGH
FOR HE TO FINALLY GO AND CRACK HIS OWN/ED DAMNED DUMMY’S NECK
ON THE RO MEAT-CHAIN
IN THE HALL OF PERMANENT-RO-RECORDS
IT WAS LEFT THEN FOR HIS GHOST’S WILL ALONE TO SET AFLAME
IN ORDER FOR HIM TO BELIEVE HE COULD CRACK THE UNIVERSAL CODE
THAT CHAINS US ALL EARTH-BOUND
SO HE MIGHT AT LEAST KNOW IN HIS DETERMINATION TO ACT
THE SIMPLE HOPE THAT ONE-DAY HE MIGHT KNOW PEACE AGAIN
THAT WAS A VERY REAL HOPE TO HIM…
BUT HE WAS SO SICK AND TWISTED UGLY
HE DID NOT EXPECT THIS TO BE PP:FCIC-MADE-WITH-IG-STYLE
BUT ONLY THROUGH DCC-MADE-WITH-UE-STYLE…
BUT WHERE IS GHOSTLY DOBBIN HANGING NOW, MIGHTY ROBINSON
AND WHAT IS TO BE WILLED BY YOU, TO BE CRACKED IN YOU
IN ORDER FOR YOU TO FINALLY KNOW THE FINAL TRUTH OF SIMPLY ALL…
OF ONLY YOU?
The swirling, dense black smoke spewed out and onto the
upstairs landing. He retreated down the staircase. The wheezing
and red faced Robinson was hindered somewhat by his limp as he
walked as quickly as he could manage. He guessed in total, with
the M2-2 firing half a gallon of fuel a second, he had used up
only one of the two gasoline tanks at his disposal. This left
him with burn-time yet to use.
He circled the internal house going from the front hall
into the dinning room. He headed out into the kitchen, and then
headed back through the living room, and back out into the front
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
339
hall again. Upon exiting each room he hosed it with the
obnoxious smelling gas. Then his burn-time was all gone. He had
a maximum range of 132 feet, and effective range of just over 65
feet. He had more than was required to ensure this entire house
was destroyed.
Once back out in the front hall, he took off this
flamethrower. Now void of fuel, the M2-2 should weigh 43 pounds.
He heaved it towards the couch burning in the living room. He
exited NO.21 Bishop Street. He climbed in through his white
van’s open rear doors. Within seconds, he was leaving NO.21
Bishop Street forever behind. As a burning inferno he selftrusted the flaming NO.21 would destroy all physical evidence,
such as the surveillance tapes and the bugging equipment he’d
left behind him. He had not wanted to risk allowing anyone else
another chance to riffle through his information.
‘NOW, WHO IS THE REAL ACTOR/SALESMAN? AND WHO IS THE ONE
WHO HAS LOST THE WORLD/LIFE-PLOT AND DOES NOT KNOW FICTIONS FROM
WAKING REALITY? For by now, you really are crazy. Yet all you
feel is elated due to you satisfying the UE-drive to destroy, in
reaction to the negative energy raised out of you, in reaction
to you living in a failed human World/life never intended to be
by the nation of the pure Gods,’ he muttered. He glanced at his
deadened eyes reflected in the van’s rear-view mirror. He felt
full of destructive but completely deadened emotions reinforcing
his rotten-RO-heart mindset. He had to use the side-mirror to
see the reflection of the thick black smoke spewing out into
Bishop Street, like an approaching cold spiritual Postmescic
universal blueprint tomb threatening to self-envelop and lose
him in IT’s internal chaotic mass.
He noted one of the neighbors been immersed in the smoke.
Robinson thought about how with a World/life death-sentence
hanging over his head, he couldn’t care less if he really was
crazy or not. All he cared about was that nothing got to hinder
him from going about his earthly work during his final
World/life days. He had too much to be self-concerned about now,
such as his next World/life meeting with his two new adopted
sons, Styles and Tomas, whose physical and spiritual presence
should at the very least help him to live that bit more easily
with what he was now all out to do to conscious-humanity at
large, without knowing any self-doubt or showing any mercy.
YOU SEEM TO THINK THE STAGGERING CLAIM…
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
340
YOU AREN’T JUST ANOTHER HARRY SHINNICK
WITH HIS LATEST GIMMICK OF SEEING ONLY PROPHET
IN HE NOW EXPLOITING THE PRIMAL NEEDS AND FEARS
OF A MINDLESS EX-RO-ORPHAN WORK/FORCE
SOON NOW TO BE TOILING TO AND FRO UP AT HIS NUCLEAR POWER PLANT
CHANNELLING RADIATION FOR HIS SO WORLDLY GAINS ALONE?
GO ON ROBINSON, BE THAT PATHETIC
NOW THAT THE HUMAN WORLD/LIFE HAS FAILED YOU
AND REFUSES TO GIVE YOU REINFOCRMENT FOR ANY OF YOUR GOOD IDEAS
AND GIVE YOU INSTEAD ONLY CONFICT, DENIAL, INSULTS AND ABUSE
AND NOW THAT YOU KNOW
PEOPLE WILL ONLY LAUGH AND SNIGGER AND TITTER
AT THE IDEAS THAT ARE ONLY GREAT ACCORDING TO YOU…
SIMPLY GO OUT AND SIMPLY MAKE A SIMPLE LITTLE
R.M.J.-RESOLUTION-CULT
TO REINFORCE AND TO REFLECT YOUR OWN/ED
NUTCASE BELIEFS RITE BACK AT YOU
AND GIVE YOUR DELUSIONS REINFORCEMENT IN THE EXTERNAL WORLD/LIFE
IN ORDER TO STOP YOU CHANGING
SO YOU CAN ENSURE ONLY THE GREAT FAILING
OF ALL OF YOUR FUTURE SIMPLE LITTLE UNDER/TAKINGS
PRIOR THE ACTUAL UNDER/TAKER BURYING ONLY YOU PREMATURELY!
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
341
13
(IN 5-PARTS)
PART 1
(OF 5-PARTS)
September 1966 the Robinson family packed up all personal
World/life belongings. The family headed to his and her new
larger home in Washington. Doctor Richard Robinson and Michael
Riordan had helped Robinson get his loan to buy this house.
In this house, Robinson had a large and expansive study. It
contained an oak desk, plenty of bookshelves and filing cabinets
to store all ongoing work in, and a fireplace. Most importantly
he had one of the best head office wall safe’s available. The
safe was hidden behind a large mirror. Robinson kept his files
on Rick Derek Styles and Stephen no middle name Tomas and fileR.I.P./unedit still-in-construction in his desk’s large drawers,
given Robinson spent most of his remaining World/life time
returning to these files in particular.
Coincidentally, Styles and Tomas had attended the same
college as Robinson had (William and Mary College). They had
achieved the same Degree (Bachelor of Law Degree). Given
Robinson by now believed in all certainty Styles and Tomas to be
the remaining two good divined Players, he was sure would never
fall to Postmescic mind God self-corruption, he felt safe
viewing this coincidence as a good omen. This also was probably
the unspoken logic that self-motivated Styles and Tomas to
immediately allow Robinson to play the adopted spiritual dream
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
342
father figure role in the orphans’ World/lives. Robinson was the
three wise monkeys ornament maker after all.
When in no uncertain terms Robinson revealed to Styles and
Tomas what type of work he was considering using them for, and
what was the most likely end result of the three counter/madeto/measures as outlined in file-R.I.P./unedit, he got a better
reaction than he had hoped. The file-R.I.P./unedit title letters
now signified…
Understanding emotional death in time…
And…
Roger In Purgatory, still in construction.
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
343
PART 2
(OF 5-PARTS)
In Michael Riordan’s home living room, Michael was bitching
and moaning about having to take on another two FBI-agents. At
least Michael couldn’t argue with Styles and Tomas’ education,
and prior World/life law enforcement experience. Styles was
already a highly decorated undercover cop.
‘If those two want to be Special Agents, then they are
going to have to go through the exact same World/life procedures
as everyone else does!’
‘For what end gain exactly? It’s bullshit, and a waste of
valuable World/life time,’ Robinson said. ‘There’s better things
to be done, and for I to have them do. Especially now, when new
rules and laws are the only order of the day, in this IT’s
universal state of emergency! These guys are qualified lawyers!’
‘And don’t think for a second that their understanding of
the so-called man made law of this here particular land is not
going to prove to be a very, very valuable asset to them,’ said
Michael. ‘You get this, rite Robinson! There’s going to be no
more fancy footwork of bundling people in through back doors,
answers given, and rules bent, if not broken outright. They have
got to do it for real.’ Michael was sitting in his brown leather
armchair. ‘And if they don’t make the grade, then there is
simply nothing I can do for them! What do I know about these two
so screwy guys anyway, except what you decide to tell me about
them?
‘Anyway, you forget what type of insane work you want these
two unfortunate orphaned guys, to do… What sane man would do IT?
Fucking crazy ex-RO-orphans for all I know? No, no, best they go
through the proper World/life procedures, down to the last
letter… given the heat that might be turned in their World/life
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
344
direction before this whole thing of yours alone, even gets the
chance to really begin. What’s more, it will probably serve them
well for them to have intimate experience with FBI regulations
and proper procedures, and thinking methods.’
‘Yah, well, I want people to later have those serious
World/life doubts about them,’ Robinson said. ‘Until the
World/life time all official records that self-testify they were
ever even born as authentic human beings, are to be removed and
destroyed. Don’t worry Michael… This shouldn’t be too hard to
do… They’re two loner ex-RO-orphans anyway, with no traceable
family or good friends who might show up asking a lot of awkward
questions. It’s not for nothing I’m having Styles and Tomas
endlessly write and rewrite, and tirelessly rewrite their
autobiographies. Not just so they have something solid to refer
back to, when they begin to loose their grasp on all sense of
their true and independent conscious selves… and not just
because it is their so very alien World/life experiences they
will have to understand in relation to their conscious selves if
they are to beat this thing, and sell IT to others on terms
others feel they can buy… and not just because after ten years
of undercover work you go from not knowing what is real, what is
the truth and what is the lie, what is the fiction what is the
fact, to wondering if you yourself are real… but also because…
well… the rest, as you fully know, despite your continued
conscious denial, concerns counter/made-to/measure NO;1 through
to NO;3 finally properly defined.’
‘You and your crazy countermeasures, based on what crazy
ideas Roger wrote down in his crazy Killian Schull essay
homework… Inora mind God,’ Michael started off again calling
Robinson a maniac. ‘Do you have any idea what sort of World/life
foundations would have to be put in place, if the necessary
future results are to be obtained?’ Robinson gave Michael a
look. ‘I mean… wait a minute… You mean these counter/madeto/measures
are
not
exaggerated,
or
works
still-inconstruction?’
‘Of course not. They’re now solid as foundational cement.
What you read, is IT. It is only the end results still labeled
still-in-construction… and the counter/made-to/measures the
prophecies for those end results that must come to be if the
counter/made-to/measures are correct.’
‘MADE-TO… is rite… Roger lied to Keith Anderson August 9th
1964… Keith was one of the first to die that day, not the last
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
345
as promised to him by Postmescic-Roger… Lies! Guys a lair! Yet
nonetheless you go on trying to kid yourself, insisting deals
can be made with that Postmescic-man-thing!’
‘Doesn’t
matter,’
said
Robinson.
‘IT
can
be
selfmanipulated anyway, just like I described in file-R.I.P./unedit…
Meant to be a slave of conscious humanity, not the master…’
Michael was only glad his wife and kids were out for the
day, and had no chance of listening to this sick insanity
Robinson was proposing. ‘Have you lost your Postmescic-mind-God
damned mind Robinson? I can’t be a party to this madness?
Countermeasure NO;1 through to NO;3! This, this, this… Brute
madness, evil, murder, suicide, innocent human victims, American
citizens with rites no less… All of Washington DC… No, no… I
thought I could self-persuade you otherwise… But no, I don’t
care what you say, never… Never could this be good, or for the
good of the majority… You’ve simply finally gone and lost the
plot in this World/life.’
‘I told you once before,’ Robinson said. ‘You are just one
of my file-R.I.P./unedit actor/salesmen! You do not have to do
any of the dirty work. You just have to deliver information back
to me… As many personal facts and details as is possible about
the major players in Washington DC, so when my men go to sell
this thing to him or her, my men can then be self-trained, selfprepared, self-educated, self-styled for any questions… and can
also use these peoples personal World/life experiences and
belief-systems and backgrounds and World/life-histories, to help
direct his and her conscious minds into simply comprehending
what we have to say to him and her.’
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
346
PART 3
(OF 5-PARTS)
Robinson’s files on various mass murderers and saints were
extensive. As part of Styles and Tomas’ work to help cultivate
and develop file-R.I.P./unedit, Styles and Tomas were constantly
sent out to interview ex-RO-orphans, many of whom Styles and
Tomas had known during their formative World/life teenage years.
The most important facts Robinson could amass, concerned the
mortal World/life rite history of Roger Madican James. All of
this
was
about
conscious-Roger’s
relationship
with
the
Postmescic mind God, and how the Postmescic mind God was using
UE directed World/life social patterns as self-camouflage in
order to allow IT to self-resurrect itself into Roger’s
conscious nature in the guise of his expected mortal worldly
pain.
Robinson was still suffering nightmares featuring human
made famines, wars, crime, mental illness, and general evil, all
out to mock his belief in the continued existence of good
conscious humanity. As expected he was suffering an identity
crises. His actual motivations began to get all muddled up in
his head due to the nightmarishly paradoxical thinking getting
into his conscious mind. Once again, all he could do about this
was to encourage Styles and Tomas to constantly work on their
autobiographies, and to even write each other’s biographies.
He did not intend to stop with pushing only Tomas and
Styles towards the external spiritual Postmescic mind God force
that lay, as far as the human mind was concerned, on the other
side of the mortal grave. Yet, in the future, anyone he might
involve in this would surely witness a corpse Roger’s Reason had
unnaturally interfered with. This would and could only mean all
the truths the supernatural remains communicated to a human’s
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
347
unconscious mind, would be enough to dissociate such conscious
human witnesses from his or her unconscious intellects and the
soul. The unconscious intellects then would stop working in his
and her favor. Personal development would be stunted. One would
become self-trapped in a stalemate and by the past, unable to go
on. Subsequently, in a failed human World/life never intended to
exist for humanity by the nation of the pure Gods, such human
witnesses wouldn’t be able to trust his or her instinctive or
emotional reactions to World/life event/circumstances. His or
her real conscious-human-past and true conscious character would
become self-obscured to him or her. All he or she would, from
that point on, ever have, would be the autobiography Robinson
would have ordered him or her to write. This was not a
presumption, but a fact of human existence.
In reaction to witnessing a Human Reason Victim, a
witness’s UE would communicate the entire Postmescic mind God
self-resurrection story throughout evil human history. The
reason the Postmescic mind God had evolved, was because humans
had failed to understand human evil, and had instead created
evil human history. The odds were against them all. Libraries
the World/life over were crammed full of misleading RO-Culture
works and teaching manuals that only proved just what spiritual
failures and UE-purpose-serving human pawns, responding to the
UE-hate/revenge drive humanity at large all jointly were. No
frame of reference whatsoever, was no frame of reference
whatsoever. Anyone who said otherwise was a lair.
It was for this reason he already knew that any such
firsthand human eyewitnesses of IT, could so easily end up with
only the memory of the purpose of the case as defined by fileR.I.P./unedit, and the file-R.I.P./unedit guide-lines of what
was rite and wrong, to fall back upon, and to drive him or her.
Such human witnesses would have his or her unique conscious
identities attacked from within by UE. With constant interned
conflict generated by UE, and a negative body-of-UE-purposesanctioned-raised-information/mental vomit generated by UE, out
to first destroy, and then to replace all pure conscious
thinking with evil thinking… and even his or her own/ed human
bodies betraying him or her by how those human bodies would
react to the immense and repetitive traumas… those conscious
identities would soon become very weakened, and prone to
confusion and evil invasion. Yet, it was this very fact that
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
348
would lead to the self-creation of so much evil in people that
he now intended to exploit.
He though, had to wonder even if he found good men, how
long would such good men, who automatically reacted to evil in a
good fashion/style, last? When unique individual signatures of
the conscious identity would be depressed, until they were
forgotten to have existed, and as such could no longer be
assessed by the sense of independent conscious self so
depressed, while dark UE-inspired judgmental philosophies became
the norm? Certainly, the Postmescic mind God would have one hell
of a good self-argument for the good to turn to evil,
considering what the human World/life really was, and evil human
history had been? Also would be self-betrayed that UE-evil/IT
was running the w/hole World/life show on even the smallest
street corner, where vendors sold his or her wears and paid
protection money to thugs? If the bad only imitated the state of
obtaining independent conscious life, how did one tell who was
genuinely good with an inherent and true conscious belief in
truly immortal spiritual World/life?
But that was the whole point behind the sneak Postmescic
mind God? After all, in this entire country, was there any good
citizen, who, upon hearing about a criminal’s truly terrible and
traumatic upbringing, and the criminal with no education worth
speaking of, didn’t become confused as to whether the criminal
had been born rotten, or had simply been warped out of his or
her original good conscious self? And in particular, if the
criminal’s terrible and traumatic past had started at a very
young age, when the personality had been at the very beginning
of coming into formation?
After all, it was a known fact most crime occurred in the
poorest areas? While the middle class produced such people as
doctors and dentists? And yet all people essentially equal and
the same? Just like Roger had written in regard to the mere UElearning aid/unconscious mind slave on the subject of Postmescic
mortality somehow turning into, and becoming some universal
World/life-event/circumstance-churning,
universal-UE-fating
mold…
Yet, on the other hand, the bad would smile when plotting
evil and the failed works of failures? They would frown in
confusion when contemplating truth and justice and the good
works of winners? This was why it was important for Styles and
Tomas to do the undercover work they were constantly doing. They
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
349
had to constantly look for UE traits and characteristics exposed
in killers and criminals, and then trace such defining traits
and characteristics back into people merely presumed to be
socially acceptable? And the two groups of people only separated
by
testing
universal
World/life
event/circumstances
selftraining/causing the UE-fating-mold to go into action and to
function a certain way?
None of this was a joke. Robinson had significant frame of
reference of the alien. Yet, given the majority were run by UE,
and knew no internal conflict, only elation when given the
chance
to
self-satisfy
UE
hate/revenge
drives
and
so
continuously self-corrupt the conscious mind with evil-inspired
thinking processes… and given even Robinson’s UE reacted
automatically and in an inalterable fashion to evil inspired
World/life social patterns… he himself was been driven by
internal frustration to break down mentally. He had become a
mere imitator of World/life, and a reactor to the physical
environment, a self-parodying pawn. He was a mere self-haunting
ghost of his former self-lost out in a vast and complex
Postmescic mind God World/life damnation game. Yet he felt
incapable of stopping what he had been unwillingly drawn into.
He could barely hold himself back from IT all. His conscious
mind was constantly dragged down into confusion and rage, within
a World/life of terror, which resulted from mindless violence,
and that cheated and stole from every participant, in a
damnation game that promised there simply could never, ever be a
true victor, but the Postmescic, the one and only true God and
survivor of simply all!
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
350
PART 4
(OF 5-PARTS)
After easily meeting the requirements of, and passing the
FBI’s written, oral and physical exams, Styles and Tomas spent
fourteen weeks being trained at the Academy. July 7TH 1967 they
were sworn in as Special Agents of the Federal Bureau of
Investigation.
Styles
felt
all
of
his
hard
work,
and
calculations concerning his future, were finally beginning to
pay off. It was enough to restore a tiny fraction of his
inherent fate that he had the rite stuff, to one day simply win
the damnation game. As a direct result, he could work out the
correct way to make the human World/life the place the nation of
the pure Gods had always intended it to be.
During Styles and Tomas’ fourteen weeks at the FBI Academy,
they were schooled in law, the violations that came under the
FBI’s jurisdiction, and in what were considered the proper
procedures and techniques of interviewing people, and conducting
all
types
of
investigations
that
came
under
Federal
Jurisdiction. They were self-trained, self-prepared, selfeducated,
self-fashioned
in
self-defense
tactics,
proper
procedures and techniques in car chases and making arrests, and
in the use of every type of firearm the Bureau used.
Immediately, after they became official qualified agents, they
did not have time to celebrate, or to say goodbye to past
classmates. Nor did they want to. Instead, Styles and Tomas were
immediately transferred under Michael Riordan.
By the end of 1968, Robinson, with his strict guidelines
and his aura of mystery, and file-R.I.P./unedit, became a strong
and dominant adopted spiritual dream father figure in both of
the ex-RO-orphans World/lives. Styles and Tomas wanted to find
out what exactly Robinson had so far worked out. Robinson had a
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
351
glint in his eyes that betrayed he was a man who had not just
seen and experienced and had thought of extraordinary things.
No, he had also made a whole lot of brand new, entirely new news
spiritual knowledge out of his so very alien and as such so very
foreign World/life experiences.
Robinson never did tell Styles he was in possession of
Derek Styles’ 38 notebooks and diaries. Instead, Robinson gave
Styles and Tomas a single copy of file-R.I.P./unedit. After
Styles and Tomas had read the file, Robinson answered any
questions they had. He guided them through file-R.I.P./unedit
step by careful orchestrated step, just to be sure they grasped
the exact and full extent of the truly unsavory business he was
planning. One of Robinson’s frames of references had been he
witnessing one of Roger’s physical, and maybe even spiritual
self-resurrections down in the underground jailhouse August 9th
1964. This World/life experience had opened up such a powerful
DCC-made-with-UE within Robinson that he could not help but be
aware of that DCC-made-with-UE reforming, every time he
witnessed out in the World/life beyond prison, evil controlling
World/life
event/circumstances,
and
dramatic
mythology/fashions/rage of the day self-resurrected by way of
the UE-medium into conscious people. Being so adversely aware of
this negative pattern, gave Robinson a good perspective of the
overall picture. Robinson then was easily able to help Styles
and Tomas with the results of their undercover work. More
importantly then, he could help to self-train, self-prepare,
self-educate,
self-style
Styles
and
Tomas
in
the
black
Postmescic
arts,
and
how
to
make
black-Postmescic-artspredictions, and how to deal with the sense one had no self.
Robinson literally appeared to be able to demand, through
sheer force of conscious will power and an unwavering desire to
see real World/life justice realized alone, that the real truth
of mortal universal Postmescic Mother Nature be revealed to him
so very alone. Simultaneously, through sheer-force of conscious
will power alone, Robinson miraculously managed to defeat all
the World/life odds. He did in fact survive his dominant alien
cancer, week after week, day after day, and sometimes even had
to make the effort to survive hour after minute after second.
Both Styles and Tomas were astounded to observe to what
extent Robinson’s physical body was constantly changing. One
minute Robinson was the World/life of the conversation. The
next, Robinson looked like death warmed up, his breath short and
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
352
rasp. Robinson, utterly self-defeated, and his conscious
thoughts a tangled incoherent conscious-self-deconstructing,
nightmarish paradoxical mess, reverted to telling them confusing
stories about R.M.J. in his bid to consciously decode his
conscious mind back out of the self-defeating, conscious-selfdestructive mess.
R.M.J. was often the preferred self-chosen term for Roger
Madican James. Just by talking about Roger’s mortal, and perhaps
even spiritual self-resurrection down in the underground
jailhouse, Robinson slowly then appeared to come back to full
physical health and World/life. He could only explain this by
reminding them, that as a firsthand eyewitness to Roger’s selfresurrection… and given he had Postmescic mind God induced
cancer… he was somehow tricking that cancer back into a neardormant state, just by he reflecting upon and talking about
Roger’s self-resurrection back into this World/life as an
authentic human being. Equally, Robinson told them it had been
prophesized that as long as he fought for truth and goodness and
to do the rite thing, his alien cancer could not kill him-only
his spiritual self-corruption could allow his cancer to. Yet IT
had also prophesized he would out-live his only daughter August…
‘Remember to, reflecting on IG inspired moments in our
World/lives can also help us,’ Robinson said. ‘Leave us tickled,
no matter what is happening all around us. IG has such power… to
completely eclipse UE, and fill us up with love, void of any
negativity… simply wipe away all bad feeling…’
In Styles and Tomas’ minds, Robinson soon became the selfpersonification of both truth and justice.
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
353
PART 5
(OF 5-PARTS)
‘You are both about to enter into a very nasty World/life
reality, the most self-testing yet…’ Robinson warned them one
morning over coffee in a restaurant. ‘Based on our very best
self-interpretation of Roger Madican James’ Killian Schull essay
homework… and in particular based on our self-interpretation of
Roger’s
reference
in
that
essay
to
three
counter/madeto/measures he shortened to CM;1 and CM;2 and CM;3… And which,
in the Killian Scott Thomas Schull essay homework, Roger-the kid
deemed to be such important concepts… Roger-the kid thought to
describe the gold-coffin-shaped gentleman’s pistol-that fired a
single silver bullet, and which was anchored to the end of the
pocket chain of each one of the Schull rotten-RO-heart pocket
watches, as a gold coffin-on whose lid was an engraving of a
human skull and crossbones, in whose décor was hidden… and yet
was an engraving made up of the letters and numbers CM;1;, ;2,
;3… Well, Styles and I, have finally decided counter/madeto/measure NO;2 as what we have decided to define it’s meaning
to be, is to go ahead. From this point on we’ll simply refer to
it as CM;2 for short.
‘Tomas, from this point on, CM;2 will be Styles’ World/life
responsibility alone. Later this morning, Styles will explain
the final details and facts to you. We have now reached the
point of no return! You understand. This is the last World/life
day for any decision to be made to simply opt out.’
Styles and Tomas remained silent. It was their belief the
World/life day to decide to opt out had past countless years
ago, so well self-trained, self-prepared, self-educated, selfstyled in this business of theirs alone were they by this time,
they didn’t know how to do anything else in World/life anyway.
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
354
‘Good. Now, I want you both to continue to keep extensive
diaries on all your thoughts, experiences, and World/life
event/circumstances you personally experience. You are to
constantly map and keep track of your personal development and
what thought-chains and images begin to form in your conscious
minds. You are to constantly work out how such things relate
directly back to the Killian Schull essay homework. I don’t want
you to ever get lost as independent conscious beings.
‘Until, that is, it proves necessary for Styles, CM;2World/Life-History-Puzzle-busting-style.
‘There must be no privacy between us. We must come to know
each other, as well as is possible. We must support each other.
All we have in this business of ours alone, is each other alone.
Everyone else in the game are conspiring directly against us
even if he or she don’t fully know IT as conscious beings!’
Styles and Tomas nodded obediently. They waited to hear the
dire news that had self-motivated Robinson to give this standard
speech of his.
‘Now! We’ve talked about counter/made-to/measure NO;1… CM;1
for short… I have decided I will go through with CM;1. I am
basing my World/life actions on how I interpret the meaning of
CM;1 from Roger’s Killian Schull essay homework. I decided a
long time ago to go through with CM;1. I just didn’t want you to
know until now.’
Styles nodded. His eyes misted. Tomas looked down at the
tabletop. He was obviously sick. His eyes filled up with tears.
Robinson said no more on the CM;1-issue for the moment.
‘I am telling you this now,’ Robinson continued gravely,
bravely, his eyes dark and cold, but all knowing. ‘Because I can
sense spiritual violence gathering out there in IT’s madeWorld/life. IT is like a bubbling witch’s cauldron on the
constant boil and about to overflow! All of society is like a
pressure cooker on the constant boil with no let up!
‘I can feel IT like an icy hand gripping my very cancer
metastasized bones! Something dreadful is going to happen… and
soon! There is simply no World/life time left. So I’m warning
you yet again in no uncertain terms, you better know who you
really are as individual conscious life force spirits! You
better know what you really stand for… and why in the nation of
the pure Gods name you are working on this Inora-mind-God
forsaken and thankless case! I can all but guarantee you only
one thing, rite now, here this morning. We have all, all three
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
355
of us, now gone way past the point of no return. In a sense we
have self-named, self-trained, self-prepared, self-educated,
self-styled ourselves as the three good Inora-divined Players,
even if we are not such. So there is no way in the State/mind
Postmescic/Embodiment-Reason-weaving-hell, you two, or I, will
ever, ever, be able to turn tail, and run back, and lose
ourselves in an apparently ignorant human society… held in a
state of constant mystery of IT all… but nonetheless run to IT’s
inspired order!
‘Forgetting all about how the nation of the pure Gods, or
the Inora-mind-God/IG/soul/forces that are Collective Mother
Nature that made the human being in the first place, might view
our decision to run out on our destiny… you guys are finished as
far as normal World/life society is concerned! You know too damn
much about the truth as it is! So forget any such ideas that may
occur to you in a few months time when the pressure really
begins to build, and never stops building… and the decisions you
have to make, become increasingly more tough, and brutal, and
ugly… and even your own/ed unconscious minds and physical bodies
react to the endless series of traumas you keep pushing
yourselves through, and ultimately turn against you!
‘If you remember anything I say to you now, then for the
nation of the pure Gods sake, you remember that, the most
important thing! You think, for instance, you could ever talk to
a stranger in an honest way?
‘What happens when he starts talking about his every day
World/life? You think you’re going to react, as expected, as if
taking his self-cultivated-out-of-his-UE drama seriously, and
his woes and complaints?
‘No! You won’t react! You’ll just accurately visualize the
Postmescic mind God governed hellhole at the end of the drama
line. You’ll fail to meet a person’s primal-UE-drive to fit into
society, and to have accepted his invented delusions he calls
his explanation for reality… by you failing to reflect back at
him the expected reaction. The stranger will feel internal
conflict. Then the lies and self-justification to destroy you
will kick in.
‘You think, for example, you’ll be able to see anything
that makes sense, about his consciously cultivated body-of-UEpurpose-sanctioned-raised-information/mental vomit… That is, the
primal evil thoughts he self-cultivated out of his UE, in
reaction to his negative World/life soul-testing-experiences…
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
356
his self-serving propaganda if you will that represent his pack
of destructive lies, evil-inspired-misleading-thoughts, and
mythological/so fashionable/rage of the day-philosophies he
uses, as his excuse to hate/take revenge on others, so much, he
bypasses his true sense of conscious self?
‘And that’s a stranger you just met? Whatever he projects
onto you, will reflect what self-serving evil-inspired body-ofUE-purpose-sanctioned-raised-propaganda/mental
vomit
he
has
self-invented throughout the course of his World/life… during
the times he felt internal conflict with UE? And so selfinvented some evil delusions and self-serving propaganda to
self-justify the spread of hateful beliefs… in order to respond
to the UE-hate/revenge-drive in him in constant conflict, in the
midst of some dramatic World/life situation, or negative
World/life experience or another?
‘At this point the Postmescic mind God will be in like a
shot. IT will inspire rage and hate of you such a guy will think
is utterly self-justified. And that’s just the average guy? You
try settling down somewhere out there, and IT still out there?
Not going to happen. Can’t!
‘I know you guys understand this already… But you guys have
been working under/cover as actor/salesmen with fictional
beliefs and motivations for so damn long… and working at IT so
damn hard… I just want to make sure you don’t forget what will
happen as soon as you have to drop the act. When under/cover,
you act and react with killers and the lowest form of consciousscum floating upon the dark spiritual waters interned within the
witches-universal-World/life-event-circumstance-churning,
universal-UE-fating-mold-cauldron… so it isn’t hard for you to
pretend to react… because you are facing real evil that causes
your
UE
to
generate
internal
conflict
and
communicate
predetermined dramatic reactions? But as for socially acceptable
society, you can forget about that? Most of these types of
conscious-scum are no good. His or her evil is often worse,
because it is covert and said to be socially acceptable, the so
shallow fashion/rage of the day.
‘You can never return to every day World/life society,
ever… You can’t even watch a violent movie… Because all negative
human World/life social patterns will automatically work on you…
through apparently superficial World/life social events, and
mundane everyday experiences… to immediately reform all DCCmade-with-UE you’ve already formed in the face of the Reason
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
357
Postmescic business… And reform all DCC-made-with-UE you will
surely continue to go on to make, in regard to being firsthand
eye-witnesses to the hidden evil spiritual truth that is
literally like the true rotten core that spins the human
World/life… and DCC-made-with-UE you make in reaction to the
hidden universal truths you are going to realize relating to
this business of ours alone… and the DCC-made-with-UE you form
during World/life experiences dealing with future Human Reason
Victims you will find yourself self-confronted with… like selfmocking self-sacrifices to the self-sacrificial-Postmescic-mindGod… and thus like self-sacrifices made to self-strengthen your
primal-mind-UE-governed fears there can only be utter failure
and doom and gloom for you in the future… and the belief the
Postmescic is the only true God of simply all.
‘But worst of all… The Postmescic mind God will try to
manipulate all World/life social patterns in order to lead you
two only to first sin, and then to your mortal and spiritual
deaths… The very first moment IT thinks you will accept the
World/life-history-judgment you are the damned… and have lost
the damnation game… and so you will remain put in the State/mind
Postmescic/Embodiment-hell, as yet more evidence IT can use to
mock the nation of the pure Gods forever having dared to believe
in the concept of the evolution of pure spiritual life… over the
evolution of mindless evil.
‘And as a footnote… don’t ever forget, you have already
formed such DCC-made-with-UE, you have great and furious
unconscious UE-inspired rage very close to your conscious minds.
IT is like a black sea of mental vomit just below the surface,
looking for any excuse to erupt… through to the surface… IT is
just waiting to connect and consume if not possess you. The only
thing stopping that rage from erupting, so you are selftormented, or descend into savage violence… is your belief the
nation of the pure Gods always intended there to be a purpose
for UE. As such we continue to simply believe for no particular
reason known, we’ve got a decent shot at resolving this thing of
ours alone… and so you can direct all your negative energy
towards this single long-term end goal.
‘In short, unconsciously, all of World/life society run to
IT’s-order by UE, will self-conspire to kill you, the conscious
life force spirit, every which way. You are then self-trained,
self-prepared, self-educated, self-styled to fear you’ll puke,
or actually physically shake and rattle, or even have a
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
358
breakdown… when you experience drama or what passes for
entertainment in this failed World/life society… for you know
what hell is behind IT all… and as such what pure suffering and
pain and devastation IT brings to all the conscious fools who
get involved in IT, and don’t know what to do about IT all but
to lash back in some way and so add to IT all…
‘You though, might know how to react through your work… all
that keeps you going then and in some state of conscious mind
governed sanity…
‘In regard to the Postmescic mind God itself… well… IT is
now self-concerned only with R.M.J. and the six Players who are
like the axels around which the Postmescic mind God’s entire
spiritual World/life… that is like IT’s self-interpretation of
this still here living human World/life… dually revolves. This
is all IT is concerned about, using negative World/life
event/circumstances and forces to break all Players, and to get
them to follow IT’s will/order for them. Let us not forget we’re
now heading directly towards the darkest universal spiritual
heart of mortal universal creation… around which all negative
historic events revolve and coincide… and ultimately, which all
negative mortal World/life rite event/circumstances ultimately
lead directly back to!’
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
359
14
(IN 2-PARTS)
PART 1
(OF 2-PARTS)
Styles and Tomas had just left the restaurant after the
one-sided and dispiriting conversation with Robinson. Upon
leaving the restaurant, Styles stopped off at an old secondhand
goods store. Last week, Styles had gone in to sell a popular
curiosity item. The piece was well known to fetch six dollars at
bottom market value. Styles had gone in with his eyes glazed, so
he had looked ignorant and stupid.
‘Two dollars,’ the priority had said for a joke.
‘Ok,’ Styles had instantly said, as if getting a good deal.
The proprietor had become elated. His eyes had shone
brightly. Cheating Styles out of the four dollars had not been
enough for him. He had also had to reduce Styles to a hapless
laughable goon in his own/ed mind. He had known great elation
for doing so.
Now Styles returned out of this most particular store.
Tomas had no idea what Styles had wished to see betrayed this
time other than some UE-hate/revenge drive. Only last week, in
self-defense, Styles had used the butt of his revolver to smash
a man’s skull in. On Styles’ behalf that’s what Tomas would like
to do to the proprietor. But then Tomas was nothing like Styles.
‘You never stop do you?’ Tomas grumbled. The two men walked
on down the street. ‘Any World/life opportunity… And if there
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
360
aren’t any, you invent them. So… Tell me what this CM;2 is
really all about, as if I don’t already have a good idea. I know
you’ve been planning it at some deeper level your whole
World/life anyway, even before Robinson dreamt it up in reaction
to Roger’s Killian Schull essay homework… Surely then a sign
CM;2’s the winning hand, that’s meant to be for any truly good
Player, if more than one good man thought of it,’ Tomas said
defensively. He knew of course he would have to be full sure
Styles had already worked out CM;2 in his own/ed mind, before
Tomas could start to go on the UE-inspired hate/revenge driven
rant, in order to successfully play the RO-Culture critic role
expected of him. For this was what was behind most critics and
his and her comments. The UE-raised hate/revenge-drive to
mindlessly spew out mental vomit inspired by UE, and as such
which was pacifically self-designed to destroy all conscious
life, to wound and damage and mislead, and spread selfcorruption all around, so the intended fair and just World/life
might never be self-created out of the failed World/life then
always self-maintained.
The two orphans were walking along the street towards their
latest beat-up car. They used the vehicle as part of their
undercover work. Styles was looking downward. He had his thumb
pressed into his front tooth. Styles glanced up in the direction
of the car parked across the street. It contained two FBI
agents. They lead the security crew who ensured Styles and
Tomas’ physical safety amidst constantly changing negative
World/life event/circumstances. In his patched leather jacket,
blue and white-patched shirt, and dark brown slacks, Styles was
dressed accordingly like a cheap street thug. Both Styles and
Tomas had wild and overgrown hair.
A cold wind was blowing dirty papers after them. The wind
sent an old tin can clattering and rolling down the street like
a junkman’s uncollected and rusting merchandise. Now that they
were well away from the secondhand goods store, Styles removed
the small curiosity item from his pocket.
‘I paid the full six dollars, and then some, to get this
worthless piece of crap back. Four times what I sold it for only
last week.’
‘Inora mind God Styles,’ Tomas grumbled.
‘See this thing?’ Styles weighed it in his hand. He threw
it against a storefront wall. The small curiosity item smashed
to pieces. ‘In a lab, under controlled conditions, you could
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
361
have used that as a test subject to examine, for example, the
laws of gravity at work. Irreversible laws of gravity that are
fixed and do not change and governed by fixed and exact laws as
far as we know. Even then it would be just an inanimate object
of examinable shape and size. Problem is unconscious intellects,
irreversible and unchangeable sum of the spiritual laws, are not
out in the open. In every human the conscious mind further warps
any shallow end, true-independent-conscious-self-misleading byproduct, end-results that are surged up from those unconscious
intellects having dreams that self-conform to the spiritual laws
they are the sum of, in reaction to what type of information is
fed in. Consciousness does not even get to contaminate the
source test subject as an isolated and independent thing.
Consciousness only gets to contaminate the mere shallow end
true-independent-conscious-self-misleading
byproduct
of
the
source test subject having dreams/fantasies. There is no frame
of reference whatsoever.
‘Yet remember what Roger Madican James wrote… UE was
originally intended to be a mere UE-learning aid on the subject
of Postmescic mortality… Work out how to survive in a mortal
universe, and best exploit the mortal resources building blocks
of this universe to benefit the human race… also to use
knowledge of all irreversible evil spiritual laws to work out
rite from wrong… fair and unfair…
‘Only somehow, with conscious people self-trained, selfprepared, self-educated, self-fashioned not to think correctly,
this mere UE-learning aid on the subject of Postmescic mortality
can become in fact the universal World/life-event/circumstance
churning, universal-UE-fating-mold…
‘Yet the UE is of a fixed, irreversible and un-changing
design following pre-set, pre-determined evil spiritual laws/
patterns… UE can and will then only operate one way… A way
consciousness should then be able to work out how to selfpredict and self-exploit and thus force the UE to operate in a
way consciousness wishes UE to…
‘CM;2 then is the utter destruction and temporary removal
of all that is unique and good in my independent conscious
mind,’ Styles muttered.
Tomas rolled his eyeballs in scorn, though really he
swallowed in despair and horror and felt an urge to puke.
‘All that the Postmescic and IT’s made human World/life can
allow a good man to do within IT all. Now get in the car Tomas.’
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
362
PART 2
(OF 2-PARTS)
The security personal self-trained, self-prepared, selfeducated, self-styled to protect the two undercover Agents from
negative
World/life
event/circumstances
self-conspiring
to
destroy them both physically and spiritually, followed close
behind in their own/ed car.
Styles drove his car down the deserted street. He slowed to
a halt before the traffic lined up before the four-way junction
just up ahead. Styles said, ‘the nation of the pure Gods could
hardly be such a cold hearted crew that they intended humans to
be kept in complete and constant conscious-mystery of how UE
really works, and why, as an independent unconscious intellect.
Especially so if the original intention was for UE to be used as
a mere fool-mortal-tool learning aid on the subject of
Postmescic mortality… And as such humanity having to go on
mindlessly suffering for UE’s so basic and repetitive and
irreversible instinctive operations… That’s the Postmescic mind
God’s goal and true will.
‘After witnessing the so many evils of this failed human
World/life, I can draw only one conclusion. It is more than
possible to get the UE-learning aid to reveal the truth of its
true body. It is in fact an intended, and irreversible spiritual
law, created by the nation of the pure Gods themselves, prior
universal creation being born!
‘I then have got to somehow trick my own/ed UE-learning aid
into revealing itself to me… But not when I physically die… but
when I am still physically/mortally alive and in dream. UE must
arise to self-possess my conscious mind, in order to selfconvince
independent-conscious-spirit-me
of
the
World/life
history judgment I am the damned when I am weak and susceptible
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
363
and utterly vulnerable to self-suggestion and UE invasion. To do
this I have to self-train, self-prepare, self-educate, selfstyle my UE-mere learning aid, to operate and dream in a certain
way as a universal World/life-event/circumstance churning UEfating-mold… Only I as the undercover agent/actor/salesman
controlling what type of universal World/life experiences I put
myself through, and how I apparently think to react to such
World/life event/circumstances… is the one feeding the UElearning aid the information UE merely imagines and self-dreams
makes it my unconscious mind World/life event/circumstance
churning
UE-fating-mold…
in
reaction
to
the
World/life
event/circumstances I put myself through and the type of things
I think about in reaction to the World/life event/circumstances
I put myself through… until my UE-learning aid tries to in some
unknowable
way,
become
my
universal
World/lifeevent/circumstance churning universal-UE-fating-mold… when the
mere UE-learning aid tries to bring to bear on my conscious mind
all known and so-called worthwhile knowledge of the known so
very mortal World/life to bear upon my conscious mind in it’s
bid to control me…
‘Yet
independent-conscious-I
covertly
will
be
still
refusing during waking World/life to accept a Postmescic/ROCulture status quo as a reflection of anything but nonsense. I
will be refusing to commit what Religions’ would deem to be
sins, during the most trying and soul-testing of World/life
times and crises. In short, I wish to be prematurely self-judged
as the damned for my fictional undercover identity, while still
mortally alive. I can then end up with conscious knowledge of
all evil spiritual laws, UE must betray to me within the process
of UE trying to self-convince me of the irreversible World/life
history judgment that I am the damned, and why I am the damned,
and why I am correct then to turn my mere UE-learning aid, into
my personal universal World/life event/circumstance churning
universal UE-fating mold/where my mere fictional rotten-RO-heart
Post/man rotten-RO-heart identity is meant to become my actual
conscious identity when finally I adapt to a RO-Culture DCCmade-with-UE-making in-all damned mindset… And as such I should
then have the conscious knowledge of all evil spiritual laws
that will allow me as a conscious mind… totally independent and
separate from UE… and capable then of predicting all UE works…
to know how to safely deal with/resolve Postmescic-Roger, of
which all UE combined are the spiritual building blocks of.
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
364
‘I figure this must happen, firstly, because, as the sum of
its beliefs, UE doesn’t know the difference between fact and
fiction. UE then has to follow the same mindless destructive
pattern no matter what. UE has to operate in one single and
irreversible way, while the RO-Culture system tries to educate
all humans to become rotten-RO-heart identities.
‘Secondly, it is UE that drives us to incorporate ourselves
into a morally bankrupt Postmescic/RO-Culture society, and to
begin to act and react around UE-inspired drama, as if the
intended reality-we believe represents the facts of real
World/life. IT is UE we use to self-define ourselves by evildriven ambition of some sort-really so UE can accomplish the
plan to destroy all conscious life and recreate the Postmescic
mind God in place of conscious life.
‘Expect for Roger, I know of no one who has survived mortal
death… Yet, during World/life, every person passes primal evil
judgments about other humans he or she hate/wish to take revenge
against, and so wishes to see destroyed, or hurt or belittled or
tortured in some way. Also, I believe, before a human is damned,
he or she must be shown the UE in whose name, and whose socalled great knowledge of the known so very mortal World/life,
he or she is expected to damn his or her conscious self for… In
a sense then, shown the evidence for the why, or so to speak.
‘So,
in
the
face
of
the
State/mind
Postmescic/Embodiment/Reason-hell I will not bow to selfcorruption. I will never become a rotten-RO-heart identity
operating within a RO-Culture system, no matter how persuasive
the information/arguments are for me to do so, just so I might
not just get on in RO-Culture, but also thrive within IT-all as
a rotten-RO-heart identity adopting RO-Culture believes as my
own/ed independent conscious life force spirits beliefs.
‘How do people end up doing evil, if he or she start out
good? How do good little girls and boys, once so innocent and
full of love, grow up to be whores and killers or soldiers who
kill in combat? How do little babies who can learn to speak a
brand new and complex language in two or three years, end up as
such spit-drooling, mentally ill and mentally damaged and
mentally deconstructed intelligences as adults, he or she can
only understand the most basic and stupid of concepts and ideas
that he or she can’t even properly define, going largely then on
gut/visceral/emotion/unconscious compulsions? There simply has
to be an unconscious juncture point where both consciousness and
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
365
UE meet when a person is dreaming… A reality-twisting,
World/life-history-shattering nightmare, if you will… like Roger
once wrote… IN THE NAME OF BRINGING ALL KNOWN AND WORTHWHILE
KNOWLEDGE OF THE KNOW MORTAL WORLD/LIFE TO BEAR UPON A CONSCIOUS
MIND… IN ORDER TO CREATE A ROTTEN-RO-HEART-IDENTITY/EVIL-BELIEF
SYSTEM THEN SELF-ADOPTED BY THE CONSCIOUS LIFE FORCE SPIRIT AS
THE CONSCIOUS BELIEF SYSTEM AND WAY OF THINKING AND DOING
THINGS… because surely this is the only state of mind where such
a junction could happen…
‘Like R.M.J. wrote… UE reenacts the essential ethos and
spirit of all negative World/life memories in the name of
brining all known knowledge of the know mortal World/life to
bear upon a conscious mind, so the mere UE-learning aid then is
turned into the universal World/life-event/circumstance-churning
universal-UE-fating-mold?
‘Could this then mean in a sense, there can be a
World/life-history judgment, when UE tries to use all bad
memories of bad World/life experiences, to self-convince the
independent conscious mind still fighting to be good, to become
an evil rotten-RO-heart character? In order for people to
succeed in an evil World/life? I suppose then, a person’s
reasons to become embittered and full of a UE-inspired
hate/revenge drive?
‘And yet when a good conscious mind refuses to bow to
change, and to become as self-corrupt as constant negative
World/life-event/circumstances would deem necessary for that
person to become, in order for that person to simply survive and
thrive in a corrupt human RO-Culture World/life… UE must arise
to try to do its best, to trick, to argue, and in doing so,
somehow force that conscious mind to become self-corrupt and as
such do the Postmescic mind God’s bidding… To join in the
World/life-order the Postmescic mind God is dictating through
the UE-building block of ITs spiritual empire that is hell on
Earth… that is the DCC-made-with-UE-making RO-Culture status
quo/education system…
‘Especially so, if I live in a dangerous World/life where I
genuinely believe, both my physical and spiritual World/life is
in authentic danger? Don’t forget the law of the jungle is
survival, kill or be killed? How often have we studied stories
of people in dangerous World/life situations, from wars to
everyday World/life, who just black out and mutilate and kill
like savages? Where is consciousness in all of this equation?
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
366
‘UE will most likely arise at a predetermined point… When
like a wounded animal being stalked, the still-pure conscious
mind is at its weakest and most susceptible point… I.e. when all
my conscious self is all weakened and eroded, and all good
characteristics repressed from my access… Due to I refusing to
react as expected to the internal conflict generated by my
own/ed UE-I must feel if I deal with Postmescic evil… and have
my UE react in a predetermined fashion, and work to drive me to
kill and to commit various other sins… just like everyone in my
World/life does.
‘In short, when in reaction to a negative environment,
negative World/life experiences/history, negative energy is
generated in me, and I do not indulge hatred, but remain a pure
and independent conscious mind, totally separate from UE. I
simply let that negative energy increasingly erode away at my
sense
of
independent
conscious
self,
like
a
spiritual
crucifixion until nothing is left of the true conscious me. Yet
I still refuse to indulge hate or commit a sin, and remain a
pure conscious mind, outside the evil purpose serving, DCC-madewith-UE-making RO-Culture herd of UE-human pawns all turning
against me-the sole good man who as a good man, stands all alone
against the UE-human-pawn herd trying to turn me into yet
another UE-human pawn, or else be spiritually/physically killed
if I don’t? I refuse to incorporate UE into my personality as
the main source of conscious inspiration/universal World/life
event/circumstance churning universal UE-fating-mold
and spew
out negative energy on others through abuse and hate and sin and
the desire to punish and destroy and take revenge and make
others suffer because I feel negative energy…
‘So…’ Styles finished, ‘I generate enough internal conflict
with UE to break down my own/ed sense of independent conscious
self. Yet I refuse to do wrong. I remain consciously pure and
independent from UE-out to turn me into another UE-building
block of the Postmescic mind God spiritual empire. Yet I make
sure I am physically, but not spiritually/psychologically
protected against all other UE-human pawns out to destroy me
into conforming to the Postmescic mind God governed spiritual
empire, given if he or she can’t physically kill me, he or she
have to kill my spirit, the only thing left I will allow the UEhuman pawns the opportunity to attack within I… So… Eventually,
when the stress is great enough… when the pressure is really on…
In a World/life-history-shattering nightmare I am prematurely
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
367
self-judged as the damned, and while still mortally alive. When
in a dream UE tries to self-convince independent-consciousme/argue to me I am the rightfully won damned Postmescic mind
God property. As such I must work to aid IT’s cause, by joining
in with RO-Culture as yet another RO-Culture evil-purposeserving bum, UE-building block of the Postmescic mind God
spiritual empire.
‘Then I wake… I will be totally defeated and overcome by
evil, and blocked by negative energy from accessing my conscious
soul, and IG… But I will even still instinctively reject this
evil state of mind, and the evil World/life history judgment,
because of the inherent good in my conscious self that can never
die…
due
to
my
truly-immortal-conscious-soul-foundationalpattern. Also because in I always been good until UE breaks me
down until weak enough for UE to self-judge me… I will have
self-trained, self-prepared, self-educated, self-styled through
making the constant correct series of conscious decisions in the
face of all soul-testing evils… so my conscious self and
thinking cycles will automatically do the rite thing like a
mindless machine going on automatic pilot… because I will have
self-trained, self-prepared, self-educated, self-styled myself
to do so, through repetitious behavior… even during the most
violent and evil and soul-destroying and soul-testing World/life
experiences such as have to now come our way to destroy the true
conscious humanity/good stuff in us, given what damnation game
we are trying to play in order to win…
‘As such I will automatically reject evil. I will then
remember my dream of UE self-judging me, and trying to convince
conscious-me the Postmescic is my God, I should therefore strive
to serve during waking reality in order to achieve ITs goals for
this World/life of ours alone, which Mother Nature Herself
wishes, i.e. the UE-human pawn herd as good as run on evil
instinct, all must be made to conform too… I.E. wash the sinners
away in a river of his and her own/ed blood, in order to make
room for the intended World/life to take root on Earth because
he and she are all self-styled, self-named spiritual errors
deserving only of complete extinction.
‘Then I document for once and for all what UE looks like as
an independent and isolated unconscious intellect… and how UE
really operates its paradoxical logic and what for… and what
evil spiritual laws UE is the sum of… and what instinctive
pattern UE uses to allow UE to build evil judgmental/paradoxical
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
368
ensnaring thinking into a conscious life force spirit that
conforms to all evil spiritual laws UE is the sum of… For
through the process of UE summoning up all evil spiritual laws
UE is the sum of, in order to pass premature World/life history
judgment upon me, on behalf of the absent Postmescic mind God…
and to try and self-argue to conscious-me why I am the
rightfully won damned property, who then must adapt and try to
join in with, and thrive within RO-Culture… I, in a sense, take
on an impression of UE within my conscious sphere. As such I
must have betrayed to me knowledge of all evil spiritual laws…
‘And then, in waking reality, I use various advanced and
more elaborate and truthful and honest forms of conscious
decoding, to reclaim back all of the good in my true and
original conscious self… that internal conflict caused to be
defeated enough, to temporarily go to spiritual dreaming death,
and in temporary exile from the soul.
‘In short, I use good conscious logic, to remove and
resolve the most major CM;2-DCC-made-with-UE that a conscious
human can ever form during his or her mortal World/life rite.
Then I go on to form PP:FCIC-made-with-IG so I am completely
healthy again. The contrast between consciousness and anticonscious evil should then allow for all UE-related works to be
properly self-examined.’
‘If it hadn’t been for that king piece of shit Pete Davie
tearing up the last few pages of Roger’s Killian Schull essay
homework, none of this CM;2-World/Life-History-Puzzle-busting
nightmare/paradoxical madness business might even be necessary,’
Tomas complained.
‘I don’t think so Tomas. What good is a description? To
truly understand all evil spiritual laws, I’ll have to let UE
completely possess, dominate, and self-judge my conscious sphere
as the damned… firsthand experience of all evil spiritual laws…
‘I still have to know how to safely deal with Roger Madican
James on every level… all the way back to the foundational UEcore… and UE of a standard design in each and every unconscious
human mind is just one of billions of spiritual building blocks
to IT… But all are the exact same type of building block…
‘I have to be able to defeat any DCC-made-with-UE that can
form in Roger, if I am to liberate his conscious mind from
Postmescic-IT’s influence/paradoxical conscious-ensnaring evillogic. I have to know exactly how the Postmescic mind God was
self-resurrected by way of UE-building blocks in the first
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
369
place. As such I can work out how IT can be self-defeated, or in
a sense, unbuilt,’ Styles said. ‘What better way than the CM;2World/Life-History-Puzzle-busting-way, through fictional roleplaying/undercover work creating the most major CM;2-DCC-madewith-UE that can ever be made, and then resolving it? Perfect
practice? It will be perfect self-training, self-preparing,
self-educating, self-styling for me? If I consciously comprehend
UE… then within the process of UE trying to prematurely selfjudge me into accepting the argument the Postmescic is my only
God, and so I should sin and conspire to do ITs will down upon
the Earth as another UE-building block, and do IT’s will in this
World/life, and fall to a state of damnation… then when next I
wake, where within that process UE has to reveal its essential
core nature that allows for such a World/life history judgment
to take place in the first place… and pass between UE and into a
conscious-sphere… I will in turn gain conscious knowledge of all
evil spiritual laws. These evil spiritual laws really do define
this whole thing of ours alone… for they will be the very same
evil spiritual laws UE has to reveal and use to pass some
paradoxical,
conscious-ensnaring
evil
World/life-history
judgment on me… and are in effect the too-same evil spiritual
laws that somehow, at an unconscious level, allow the UE to
argue
well
enough,
to
self-convince
a
conscious
human
experiencing
hate
in
waking
World/life,
to
accept
some
judgmental evil logic as logic that he or she believes best
reflects what he or she believes defines so very mortal
universal Postmescic Mother Nature reality for conscious-him or
her… To the extent he or she go out and base his or her words
and physical actions upon such evil logic-really mere selfcamouflage
so
the
UE-purpose/hate/revenge-drive
may
be
completed… and the Postmescic mind God recreated in place of
conscious humanity then self-judged, self-destroyed.’
‘Yah? But how do you know a dream from a wish fulfillment?’
Tomas began.
‘Come on Tomas,’ said Styles. ‘First off, if a conscious
mind develops a wish fulfillment that did not once exist, it has
to be an unconscious intellect, or the soul, is reinforcing that
wish fulfillment. Secondly, the amount of thoughts and ideas a
human can self-conceive of, are limited to a certain amount by
the human mind. More importantly, a conscious mind, though
limited in scope, is flexible. UE is not. IG is not. The
essential core soul is not. A conscious mind cannot imagine
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
370
that, which is fixed in nature, and never changes. And yet has
the power to totally warp and change a flexible conscious mind
totally out of all recognizable original nature and shape and
character… and yet even after the conscious mind reclaims and
rebuilds itself back to its former pure and original glory, the
UE drives remain exactly the same? And yet the CM;2-World/LifeHistory-Puzzle-busting-results can be related to explaining all
works in all libraries, the World/life over… and the documented
historic actions and fashions/rage of the day of all societies
and peoples and cultures past… and despite the fact I will never
even have read the vast majority of those works, prior to I
getting my end results, CM;2-World/Life-History-Puzzle-bustingstyle.’
‘You’ll never be the same,’ Tomas was enraged. He suddenly
allowed himself to be self-convinced of a primal UE judgment so
abruptly now up surged from his unconscious mind. If Tomas
should see Pete Davie now, he really would get out of the car.
He would smash his revolver’s butt down on his crown. He would
kick him around the street, until Tomas’ primal rage was gone.
For this was the type of thing Pete Davie deserved to have
happen to him, every second moment of his worthless mortal
World/life rite as the self-named spiritual error he truly was
self-named, self-styled to be. A man so sub-human, his true
worthlessness
could
never,
ever
even
be
realistically
represented.
‘Nonsense. At an unconscious level UE makes us feel bad. UE
fills us with the conscious-self-conviction the Postmescic is
the only true God, and mortal World/life and a mortal World-it
is up to UE to allow us to understand the reality of, is all we
have. We should then life by the brutal or symbolic axe/haterevenge drive. While IG and the soul reinforces our belief in
pure spiritual World/life, and in there being good people on
Earth, filled with good and pure identities, the true worthwhile
stuff of humanity, living in a pure and good society.
‘As such, if I am never the same Tomas, it will only mean
one thing… I’ll still be forced to deal with my UE given the
opportunity and the means and the external stimuli by UE-human
pawns to form DCC-made-with-UE in conscious me… as UE constantly
reenacts as predictable as a machine to such external negative
stimuli following inalterable patterns.
‘Like I always told you… I like to believe UE is there only
to let us know rite from wrong, and when humanity is going in
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
371
the wrong direction, and why evil is evil… and UE will always
work to destroy us, and self-punish us as long as we serve IT…
and UE is there to help us understand the subject of mortality
as our mere fool-mortal-tool. Not to define conscious-us like
some animals out to kill other animals and mate and breed in
order just to physically survive in the wild to the extent we
are consciously defined by some killer’s instinct and primal
evil cunning and lust/hate/revenge-drive required only to
operate as some primal caveman in some mortal World/life
environment of the caveman…
‘But by this late day the human-World/life is so sick and
twisted ugly due to RO-Culture teachings that the CM;2–Puzzle is
the only viable and sane option left open to us. There is so
many purely evil lies taught as socially accept truths, it is no
longer possible to use UE-to self judge rite from wrong and then
set the wrong rite… The lies taught as truths are so inherently
evil personified alone, all one can do in reaction to such lies,
is to become full of the UE-inspired hate/revenge drive to
mindlessly self-destruct all, until all independent conscious
life force spirit is destroyed… There are no truths in this
failed World/life, just various different evil-purpose-serving
lies to ensure the failed World/life always remains a failed
World/life void of any truth, so always lies can even only lead
to confusion and then more lies made up in response…
‘IT is in fact all the UE-human pawns will ever allow us to
do and be successful at, CM;2-given all the UE-human pawns can
do is abuse all, and all else is bullshit… and evil purpose
serving lies aimed to prolong the self-corruption and the
unconscious evil conspiracy to self-destroy all of conscious
humanity.
‘As such the CM;2–Puzzle is the cornerstone of not just all
of my beliefs, but also of the file-R.I.P./unedit. Anyway, given
the evil forces we have been left to deal with, and try to
manage, and the essential rotten core truth of the human
condition… the complete destruction of my sense of independent
conscious self is the only viable and realistic option we can be
sure of happening, during this thing of ours alone. The act of
the ultimate pacifist…
‘Tomas, try to understand… I’ve had enough. Enough is
simply enough. In my mind then, any price is worth paying. Quiet
frankly then, I don’t give a shit if I fucking die to hell and
damnation, as long as I get my CM;2-World/Life-History-Puzzle-
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
372
busting-results… Because soon, we’ll have the money and the
World/life power and the means to do whatever the fuck it is we
want to do, and screw everyone else… because the only real law
we can count on is evil doesn’t change. IT is fixed. IT is
immobile. IT must be correctly managed! And evidently Tomas,
I’ve got no other choice. Let me put it to you this way. In the
larger scheme of universal things, where a million years
constitutes
a
virtual
nothing,
we’re
all
as
good
as
mortally/physically dead as soon as we are born anyway. We are
doing to die, and be self-judged on our World/lives-that is a
given fact. So in reality we don’t have anything real or
permanent to protect in the first place, and especially so in an
evil-purpose-serving RO-Culture World/life full of nothing but
lies and mistruths.
‘If not, if all die and that is simply that, I still don’t
want to add to IT all, for if I die and it is as if I never was…
then my pain will also mean nothing… All will simply be
forgotten when swallowed up by oblivion… And especially when I
have that one last vague and so quickly dying hope I can do this
CM;2-World/life-Histiry-Puzzle-busting-business…
‘So, if we bow to self-entertaining primal evil delusions
that are a mere shallow end true-independent-conscious-self
misleading byproduct of the filth of Postmescic mortality… mere
self-camouflage to ensure the UE-purpose to destroy all may
continue… that we consciously self-mirror with some deathlearning aid death-drive and become death self-personified and
so because we are going to die anyway, decide to drag all out
into actual or symbolic death alone… we accept hell. If we
reject all works of Postmescic mortality, and that includes
concerns for our own/ed physical bodies and physical welfare, we
at least have the hope of achieving truly immortal spiritual
World/life on the other side of the grave. What are a few
decades of suffering in the face of this?’
‘We will achieve truly immortal spiritual World/life on the
other side of the grave? More like there is no next World/life…
What we perceive as the next World/life, is really our minds
trying to allow us work out what is a fair and just human
World/life to be created in this World/life…’ Tomas grumbled.
‘And all humanity ever gets is to be self-judged collectively,
just like any another animal, like a herd of sheep grouping
together… and as such self-punished through such things as wars
and famine and crime and mental illness until forced to change
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
373
humanities evil-purpose serving ways into good-serving ways…
That’s all this really is… the end of all because no one ever
changed or self-learned from history no matter what hell was
self-created down on Earth… and we the last few good men wasting
our final World/life time because we’ll ultimately go down for
the count with everyone else anyway… You consciously dying then,
is the World/life dying and you not coming back from CM;2…’ said
Tomas.
‘Maybe,’ answered Styles.
‘Do you at least have any idea how long the CM;2–
World/Life-History-Puzzle will take to bust open?’
‘No… But I do know that given we are playing the Postmescic
mind God’s damnation game, everything that is to come into my
World/life, will represent evil and lies, and evil and lies
alone. This then, through my UE reacting to this external
negative stimuli, will ensure the erosion of my conscious mind
no matter what I do… as the Postmescic mind God waits for IT’s
opportunity to get me at my lowest and most susceptible point,
when IT feels confident IT can self-convince independentconscious-me of the World/life history judgment I am the damned,
and IT’s rite/fully won damned property… so when next I wake, I
will commit a mortal sin, or work for IT’s goals/to achieve IT’s
agenda as a UE-building block… presumably my motivation would be
spite, or maybe IT thinks I’ll be so overcome by evil I will
then become evil… who knows yet what type of black Postmescic
arts tricks IT has up IT’s symbolic magician’s sleeve. As such
IT can then win the damnation game. IT can prove to the nation
of the pure Gods humanity wasn’t worth saving… Given all three
good divined Players, the best the Inora-mind-God-resources has
on offer, failed to beat IT… and despite all the alien, but
entirely new news, new information we were given… and all of the
truly alien World/life experiences we went through. And that’s
why you Tomas, in playing my constant RO-Culture critic, will do
your very best, to, in a sense… argue my conscious life force
spirit out of existence… Just like down in the D-Block selfslaughterhouse the Reason nearly argued conscious-you out of
both physical and spiritual existence through IT using the
World/life story that is evil human history. You must try to
replace all pure and secure conscious spiritual logic I come up
with, with UE-inspired abusive and deeply flawed logic. You must
make the conscious decision to form a DCC-made-with-UE, and then
puke out the mental vomit your UE is dreaming up nightmares of
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
374
in response to the type of RO-Culture/Reason information/evil
human history arguments you grew up surrounded by.
‘I, of course, as a conscious mind who is your constant
torture victim, like some symbolic Human Reason Victim, will
never take such information seriously. But what should happen
then is the building up of a monstrous body-of-UE-purposesanctioned-raised-information/mental vomit if you will, aimed to
wipe conscious me out of conscious self-awareness as a good man…
IT will represent my excuses to hate and despair and to wish to
punish and to wish to take revenge and to destroy and to add to
Postmescic-IT-all… and to lose faith in the existence of a pure
God… or pure forces within universal creation… and to think to
willfully work to serve an evil God’s purpose out of spite of
the rest of humanity-so evil… and to let hateful and destructive
and embittered philosophies define my conscious being, the
conscious-self-deconstructing-logic.
‘Remember Tomas? Evil feeds evil… so puke out the evilinspired mental vomit onto good conscious-me your constant
torture victim, and my evil will feed on it and grow so fat on
dreams and nightmares it will all but consume and take over my
independent conscious mind… Just by having such a monstrous
body-of-UE-purpose-sanctioned-raised-information/mental
vomit
attacking my conscious mind while I myself am directly involved
with evil people and evil things and evil crimes amidst a
World/life time in such a such state of universal energy I am
trying to safely manage and resolve, should so slowly in a sense
kill my conscious mind… wear out, or at least stop me from
accessing my once pure conscious reasoning repressed then from
my conscious access. Until all that is left of conscious-me, is
a pale self-mocking parody ghost of my former self, so weighted
down
by
the
body-of-UE-purpose-raised-information
thoughtchaining logic, UE is basically ready to arise in a World/lifehistory-shattering nightmare… as UE tries to force me into
actually accepting such evil beliefs as my conscious beliefs…
and I then becoming yet another lowly RO-Culture bum, rotten-ROheart identity, UE-building block totally consciously-defined by
some universal World/life event/circumstance churning, universal
UE-fating mold.
‘This to, is why I will always give people like you the
benefit of the doubt. I will make up pure and secure conscious
logic to explain to myself, what must be his or her thoughts and
motivations, given his or her behavior. Namely, I will imagine
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
375
what would motivate me to do, what he or she did, if I was in
the exact same World/life situation, when I was run by conscious
logic… rather than evil-purpose-serving logic backed by the UEhate/revenge drive to destroy all of conscious humanity and the
intended plan for creation… even when UE is obviously the real
motivating factor for his or her thoughts and behavior…
‘It’s the way people are self-trained, self-prepared, selfeducated, self-fashioned by RO-Culture to carry on… Someone does
something bad… People actually start arguing if IT is bad…
People say maybe in this World/life situation IT would be rite,
but not in this World/life situation… This really reflects
people letting UE self-corrupt with evil thinking the conscious
mind… The UE-drive to self-corrupt and to constantly reinforce
DCC-made-with-UE, in a RO-Culture World/life that goes after
infants from birth, trying to self-train, self-prepare, selfeducate, self-fashion the kid to destroy all rational conscious
thought
and
to
be
defined
by
the
gut/visceral/emotional/unconscious life that doesn’t know the
difference between fact and fiction, and thus is so easily
filled/trained with the evil-purpose-serving lies to function in
a certain way…
‘You see then Tomas, if I go into a dissociated state where
I am blocked from real conscious mind governed-insight… and if I
try to hold onto pure conscious logic to explain the actions of
evil people-just because it is how I myself wish to view
reality-so I might see the World/life as I see myself and get to
feel good… the internal conflict brought by the contradiction
generated by the fact that the truth is the complete opposite to
what I wish to believe it is… will always attack my sense of
independent conscious self… My conscious logic then will be
constantly contradicted and so destroyed… or at least lost from
conscious mind access due to the negative energy raised out of
UE… rather than I vent that evil outwards by abusing people or
thinking ill thoughts about him or her and joining in with the
unconscious evil conspiracy to destroy all conscious life.
‘In a way then I should be able to remain consciously
divorced from my own/ed UE. I will simply allow the negative
energy to attack my independent sense of conscious self, break
it down into the forces of spiritual dreaming death.
‘Anyway, it is my opinion that if a human is to sell his or
her own/ed soul into a shared state damnation with UE… selfmirroring style… the nation of the pure Gods always intended a
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
376
conscious-human to first have the option of viewing the full-UEtruth that human was expected to sell his or her soul into a
shared state of damnation with. In short, before I become
another RO-Culture bum UE-building block, UE will have to do its
utmost to self-convince conscious-me of the merits of becoming
another RO-Culture bum… brining to bear upon my conscious mind
all so called worthwhile knowledge of the known mortal
World/life. There’s only one way for UE to do this… To try to
self-convince me of the World/life history judgment, I am the
damned Postmescic mind God property anyway… and the Postmescic
is the true God who made all the World/life and all UE-human
pawn people in IT… and so I should respond by following IT’s
true will for me, to help remake IT… and join in on, and do my
little part to help with the destruction of all of conscious
humanity by I becoming yet another UE-building block, consciousfool-mortal-tool.
‘Anyway, Robinson and I always said we’d use UE-inspired
hate/revenge drive only to hate and take revenge upon the UEevil in humanity, not conscious humanity. We would use that
hate/revenge drive as our motivation/ambition to defeat evil…
and in our bid to gather the evidence that proves conclusively
to other morally bankrupt humans, how pathetic the truth of evil
really is… and just what mindless instinctive nonsense the
humans are using as his or her excuse to be morally bankrupt…
so-called self-serving… but really UE-purpose-serving conscious
minds. In short, hate and take revenge upon the evil in
humanity, not conscious humanity… Make UE the great enemy, not
conscious humanity… Do all we can, use all our conscious will,
to smash and totally defeat that UE-evil… which of course will
mean the smashing and temporary complete self-defeat of my
conscious
mind
CM;2-style…
That
will
ultimately
mean
I
out/thinking so very mortal Postmescic Mother Nature Herself,
despite the fact that so far in human history, all of conscious
humanity was out/thought by the UE/Postmescic so very mortal
Mother Nature Herself… otherwise evil human history would not
have been created in place of the fair and just and intended
World/life of peace and love and evolution into greater states
of wisdom…
‘You see, I guess that hate/revenge drive will now destroy
my own/ed independent sense of conscious self, given just how
bad conscious humanity presently is… Overall,’ said Styles. ‘The
CM;2-World/Life-History-Puzzle-busting
business
is
the
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
377
cornerstone of my pure belief system. It should ensure I, at
least, pull apart at least one UE-building-block. As such I
should cause the whole Postmescic mind God-spiritual-empire to
come all but crashing down all around us. This then should prove
that the nation of the pure Gods do not have such hard hearts,
as to have ever thought it fitting, to expect us universally
all, to fit UE to our conscious minds as the main source of
conscious inspiration, as not a mere UE-learning aid on the
subject of Postmescic mortality so we might hope to understand
the mortal universe and World and get on there, but as a
universal World/life event/circumstance-churning, universal UEfating-mold dragging all down into death and destruction… to our
last mortal World/life rite… And to do so, despite having no
conscious knowledge of the true nature of UE as an independent
unconscious intellect… and what alternative Postmescic-mind-Godremaking purpose UE really serves… self-designed to send us all
to hell and damnation as self-named spiritual errors best
removed from existence so the nation of the pure Gods might be
mocked.’
‘More like you accepted this crackpot concept,’ said Tomas,
playing the RO-Culture critic role at last, now that all was
finally said and done on the CM;2-World/Life-History-Puzzlebusting topic, ‘that the Postmescic mind God slightly altered
the intended UE-design, and left it flawed… so you can go on
believing that the nation of the pure Gods are such a pure and
holy bunch, they never intended us universally all, to have to
endlessly suffer like we universally all have to near endlessly
do and do. And in reaction to such great suffering, if we fall
to sin, then we are left in a state of near eternal damnation
near-forever more as if for time without end, until ultimately
then, the end does come… and we are removed from creation as
self-named spiritual errors. What then sort of a nation are they
at all, I ask of you, what sort of a nation are they at all…’
then he parodied Styles own/ed words, while summoning the UEinspired hate/revenge-drive. This way the UE in Styles could set
up a DCC-made-with-UE association through which negative energy
could arise to attack Styles’ independent sense of unique
conscious self, where he would fell cheapened, belittled and
mocked and lead astray from the actual truth and intended plan.
‘That the nation of the pure Gods should have such hard hearts,
as to ever believe it fitting, that UE should be allowed to fit
itself to our conscious life force spirits as the main source of
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
378
conscious inspiration… without us having any understanding of
UE. And yet the only way to break out and away from the
universal World/life-event/circumstance-churning, universal-UEfating-mold and our oppressive ignorance… and turn the UE back
into a mere UE-learning aid on the subject of Postmescic
mortality… is the CM;2-World/Life-History-Puzzle-busting so
paradoxical nightmare-business of yours alone/cornerstone of the
file-R.I.P./unedit…
‘And yet even Christ on his cross asked why God had
abandoned him, when Christ came under UE influence in reaction
to his tormentors and his tormenting? And yet you think you’ll
be somehow any different than even the Christ, just because IT
will be a spiritual crucifixion rather than a physical
crucifixion?’
Styles looked sick. He felt his conscious life force spirit
being destroyed by negative energy raised out of his UE-that was
near instantly reenacting the essential ethos and spirit of the
negative memories and thoughts representing how Tomas was using
his UE to self-judge Styles as a fool/demonic joker spitdrooling half-wit goon.
‘And yet all you are basing all of this crackpot CM;2World/Life-History-Puzzle-busting cornerstone of your entire
belief system crap upon, is some statement Roger… the real
Postmescic Satan by the way… left documented behind him in some
time worn Killian Schull essay homework, he expected you to
later find, and study and build upon…
COUNTER/MADE-TO/MEASURE NO.2WORLD/LIFE-HISTORY-PUZZLE-BUSTING STYLE…
‘TO USE THE CORNER/STONE OF ONE’S UNIQUE SELF-CREATED
AND ENTIRELY NEW CONSCIOUS BELIEF SYSTEM
IN ORDER TO FINALLY TOPPLE AND PULL ALL APART
SO AS NEVER TO BE PUT BACK TOGETHER AGAIN
THE POSTMESCIC MIND GOD’S ENTIRE SPIRITUAL EMPIRE
SELF-BUILT OUT OF ALL SELF-SWINDLING/
DEAL-MAKING, DAMNED TOO-TOO-MORTAL-FOOL/
UE-BUILDING BLOCK-CONSCIOUS-TOOL-HUMANS-COMBINED…
‘THE CONSCIOUS-LIFE-FORCE-SPIRIT-SELF-DECONSTRUCTINGUNHOLY-UNCONSCIOUS-EVIL-INSPIRED-NIGHTMARE
CM;2-WORLD/LIFE-HISTORY-PUZZLE
THAT MOST BECOME THE VERY CORNER/STONE
OF YOUR ENTIRE CONSCIOUS-BELIEF SYSTEM
IF YOU ARE EVER TO BREAK OUT OF
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
379
AND SO BREAK APART IT’S SO MORTAL MOTHER NATURE’S
UNIVERSAL WORLD/LIFE-EVENT/CIRCUMSTANCE-CHURNING
UNIVERSAL-UE-FATING-MOLD…
AND CAUSE THEN AT LEAST ONE UE-BUILDING-BLOCK-CONSCIOUS-TOOL/
WILLFULLY SELF-KEPT SO IGNORANT CONSCIOUS SLAVE OF UE
TO GO ASKEW
AND BRING ABOUT THEN THE COMPLETE COLLAPSE
OF THE POSTMESCIC MIND GOD’S ENTIRE SPIRITUAL EMPIRE
AND SO SIMPLE HOLD OVER SIMPLY ONE AND ALL, AS IF ALL IS ONE…
‘CM;2-WORLD/LIFE-HISTORY-PUZLE-BUSTING-IS-THEN
NEVER FALLING TO SELF-CORRUPTION/SELF-DECEPTION
NO MATTER HOW GREAT THE INTERNAL
UE GENERATED
CONFLICT/HATE/REVENGE/DESPAIR DRIVE
AND CONSCIOUS-SELF-DECONSTRUCTING, UE-INSPIRED-UNHOLY NIGHTMARES
BUT INSTEAD ALWAYS THINKING TO THINK
AS A PURE AND INDEPENDENT CONSCIOUS MIND
WHAT IS THE CORRECT AND TRUE THING TO THINK
DURING ANY SOUL-TESTING WORLD/LIFE-EVENT/CIRCUMSTANCE-TIME
UNTIL UE IS FORCED TO FINALLY GIVE UP ON THE GREAT MYSTERY OF UE
AND PRESENT THE FINAL EVIDENCE OF WHAT UE REALLY REPRESENTS
AS AN INDEPENDENT AND ISOLATED UNCONSCIOUS INTELLECT
SO TOTALLY SEPARATE FROM THE INDEPENDENT CONSCIOUS MIND
IN A WORLD/LIFE-HISTORY-PUZZLE-SHATTERING NIGHTMARE
FOR THE CONSCIOUS SPIRITS ULTIMATE INSPECTION
AND SO FINALLY END THE GREAT-WORLDLY-MYSTERY
CM;2-WORLD/LIFE-HISTORY-PUZZLE-BUSTED/-CONSCIOUS-STYLE…
‘EASILY DONE BY THE RITE GOOD WORLD/LIFE-STAGE-ROLE-PLAYING
MAN
FOR AS THE SUM OF ITS BELIEFS
UE DOES NOT KNOW THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN FACT AND FICTION
AND CAN THEN, WILL THEN ONLY OPERATE ONE WAY
THAT AS SUCH CAN BE OUT-PLAYED IN THE DAMNATION GAME…
‘Mind telling me simply why?’
‘We have to believe there is authentic conscious good in
Roger. At a deeper level then he knew in advance all that was to
come his way,’ Styles simply said in response. ‘And it was this
conscious good, fighting the interned evil… and somehow
instinctively sensing the predetermined history his mortal
World/life rite was set to be… that inspired Roger to write
those words down for us, to later find… study and build upon… as
the cornerstone of our entire belief systems, fit then to bring
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
380
about the premature collapse and destruction of the Postmescic
mind God’s entire UE-building-block-spiritual empire… Like a cry
for help the sheer desperation and desire to be saved, forcing
the essential core truth out of Roger’s truly divided nature in
a state of constant self-war… that now requires such clever
mending in the name of saving simply all.
‘In short Tomas… Let the IG-sun-like orb descend from
mortal-mind sight… Let the UE-moon-like-orb rise near eternal
spiritual darkness upon my house of conscious mind… As I, the
ultimate undercover acting/salesman… out of the unique spiritual
building blocks that make up my own/ed unique conscious mind,
thoughts and philosophies… prematurely and while still mortally
alive, build my own/ed spiritual tomb… and then go there to
rest, within my own/ed self-dug spiritual grave… to where all
knowledge of the mortal universe, and all evil spiritual laws
does reside… and I become like the conscious-body bag for my
own/ed UE interned within… for like a symbolic act of suicide… a
spiritual suicide… I must self-sacrifice all pure and unique
conscious life force spirit truth, and goodness, and independent
conscious life force spirit in myself, in exchange for knowledge
of all evil spiritual death laws…
‘So then, once there, within the self-made spiritual tomb,
where like a symbolic suicide, I lay in my prematurely self-dug
spiritual grave, CM;2-World/Life-History-Puzzle-busting-style…
with the UE-interned within me as my World/life-historyshattering nightmare… so I may finally know the complete truth
behind the Postmescic mind God… but not when I am mortally dead…
but am still mortally alive… and merely still-a-dreaming… so as
if then self-resurrected from mortal death itself… rather than
the actuality IT will be only some nightmare self-induced
through sheer conscious will power alone… powering me all the
way back within and down to the self-dug depths below… then I
may arise, once more fully self-made, and self-resurrected, as
an independent and unique conscious life force spirit being…
like a symbolic crucifixion leading to a symbolic selfresurrection… better than new and my original conscious life
force spirit self… once more totally free of IT’s too, tooearthly and mortal World/life influence… and then I may use the
cornerstone of my entirely new news and self-created belief
system,
to
finally
topple
the
UE-building-block-builtPostmescic-mind-God-empire off the Mother Earth.
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
381
‘You know IT too, self-doubting, self-quoting Tomas… IT’s
just like the kid Roger Madican James wrote about in his Killian
Schull essay homework…
‘AND YET KNOWING NO SELF-DOUBT, WITHIN IT’S MORTAL
UNIVERSAL BLUEPRINT STYLE OF ARCHITECTURE, IT WAS TOO LATE THEN,
PRIOR THE BIG-BANG BLAST, FOR THE FINAL DISCOVERY, OF THAT TINYFLAW OF THE NATION OF THE PURE GODS-CROOKED-LAW, GOVERNING ALL
OF-MORTALITY…
‘AND SO THE FINAL-DWINDLING AND-CRACKED POSTMESCIC-MIND-GOD
DID-ONCE SO-FULLY-GIVE ALL-OF-ITSELF TO-DUALLY-MAKE THIS WHOLEEMERALD-GREEN/AND-SKY-BLUE/MORTAL-UNIVERSAL/WORLD/LIFE
TO-ORDER
TO-FLOAT IN-EXPANSION OF IT’S NEAR-ETERNAL INTANGIBLE-MYSTERY SO
THEN IT-TO COULD FINALLY-BE REBORN…
‘IT is not for nothing you were named the self-doubting,
self-quoting Thomas… The moment down in the D-Block,-’61 selfslaughterhouse IT tried to use the argument that is evil human
history to argue to independent conscious-you, so you might
think to allow yourself go to self-named spiritual extinction as
the very first Human Reason Victim in the name of adding your
once
truly
immortal
spiritual
properties
to
IT’s
selfresurrection so all might be self-destroyed in IT’s so selfjudgmental name…
‘The story of evil human history is the human World/life IT
made to order by tricking all of humanity into turning a mere
UE-learning aid on the subject of Postmescic mortality into the
universal World/life event/circumstance-churning, universal UEfating-mold… independent conscious intelligence as good as
bypassed entirely… all so dramatic human beings run about IT’s
self-spun so mortal Earth plaything like the rotten-RO-heart
spiritual clockwork horrors to IT’s order… …You then as the
self-doubting, self-quoting RO-Culture critic must argue to I
the self-styled one, why I am to become a rotten-RO-heart made
to order… Through this self-resurrecting of all evil arguments
to join with evil… Independent conscious I should be destroyed
to order CM;2-style… But no more than physical Roger returned
from his physical suicide… I too intend to return from my selfdug symbolic suicide CM;2-spirtual grave as an independent
conscious being then able to use the UE-fating mold correctly
and in the intended way as the mere UE-learning aid on the
subject of Postmescic mortality… therefore destroying the first
of IT’s UE-building blocks, that like the removal of the
cornerstone brings about a complete collapse of IT’s spiritual
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
382
empire/hold over all the rest of the human race… through the
brand new, new news I self-style…
‘Do you see Tomas? No self-doubt in IT’s universal
blueprint style or architecture… Postmescic mind God-IT really
thought no one independent conscious life force spirit could
ever think/figure/self-style out how to break out of the evil
run World/life-order without been trampled to death by the UEhuman pawn herd… to get around all paradoxical thinking, paradox
snares, conscious decoding etc… to out/think so very mortal
Postmescic Mother Nature Her/self… Yet the true key is not by
looking out at all of the so very mortal universe, but looking
within at a single UE-learning aid that allows for understanding
of all the so very mortal/physical universe without… Yet style
is what fixed and irreversible truth a unique and independent
conscious mind blessed with not only free will and the ability
to think independently as a conscious mind always then with the
ability to recognize the truth, but also with the potential to
evolve spiritually into the ultimate spiritual being of purity
and
goodness
and
truth…
works
out
about
unconscious
intellects/spiritual law learning aids of a standard design in
each and every unconscious human mind… Too many human beings
obsessed with the self and the self-importance thinking up evilpurpose-serving lies in reaction to the UE-hate/revenge drive to
then flood society with till no one can see the Postmescic-wood
from the UE-trees anymore…
‘Till now of course there is I, the new self-styled style,
entirely new news, for you to hurl your self-doubts upon, really
the self-justification humanity merely thought IT had to selfcreate evil human history and to stop the intended fair and just
World/life from ever coming to be out of the failed World/life
never intended to be, but yet always here… still here to hear…
‘Just try and break me down into rotten-RO-heart order
Tomas, until I throw all out of order… Basing the logic on the
logic humanity used to self-justify self-creating evil human
history… The RO-Culture logic in your unconscious mind since the
D-Block,-’61 self-slaughterhouse… I always said IT… You often
react as if experiencing a World/life event for the very first
time… nothing ever self-learned, no matter how often the exact
same type of World/life experience of a standard design comes
into your World/life… As if a conscious intellect void of
conscious
thinking…
gut/visceral/emotional/unconscious
reactions… Well, now here is how you can be of good use… Using
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
383
the story of evil human history put into your unconscious mind,
to try and argue me out of conscious existence, for I to then
conform to evil… Just void the sense of conscious self,
conscious intelligence, and puke out the mental vomit labeled
drama and the criticism of a man who pulls no punches… really
nothing but you responding to the UE-inspired hate/revenge drive
to destroy the intended plan… and your means the mental vomit
dreamed up by an unstable UE having nightmares that conform to
all evil spiritual laws UE is the sum of, in reaction to the
type of negative information once in, or still in your physical
environment… Then I will know the real why behind the Postmescic
mind God knowing no SELF-DOUBT in regard to IT’s style of
architect for the mortal universe, for through the argument for
the self-creation of evil human history, I should work out
exactly why IT was so sure no self-styled human being could ever
work out the real truth/entirely new news behind IT all, and
thus I should work out the actual truth/entirely new news?’
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
384
15
(IN 4-PARTS)
PART 1
(OF 4-PARTS)
IT was all paradoxical nightmarish ensnaring, thoughtchaining madness. They were all three men meant to be equally
divined good Players. Yet, Tomas was of the belief he wasn’t as
capable as Styles or Robinson. Given there was so much at stake,
Tomas decided to believe otherwise as a conscious mind.
Tomas knew they were all three men in IT together. Soon
Styles and Tomas in particular, would have to be entrusted with
great wealth and worldwide influence over life and death, and
the direction human history took in regard to the masses. How
was Tomas to self-justify his personal involvement as a major
player rite at the central core of IT-all, in such a truly
significant thing as this?
Each time he discovered he was far from as capable as
Styles, it was a worse blow than the last. These days even
Styles seemed to be contradicting and betraying Tomas’ view of
Styles.
George Ira Robinson appeared to have all of the answers
Tomas was looking for. As much as IT terrified him, for Tomas
the R.M.J.-case held a masochistic self-fascination. He felt he
had been truly self-judged down in the D-Block,-‘61 selfslaughterhouse. Though he appeared matured, he had no choice
while working on his autobiography but to fully admit, and to
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
385
write down for Styles and Robinson to read, all details
concerning the paradoxical, thought-chaining nightmare that
lived inside of him. Then, so unexpectedly and seemingly out of
nowhere, he realized Robinson wasn’t the man he had first selfperceived him to be in any way at all, in any shape or form.
Robinson
had
always
been
a
bit
crazy
due
to
his
supernatural/alien World/life experiences. Tomas hadn’t realized
to what true extent. Tomas felt that Robinson was simply playing
yet another under/cover fictional-role/part when he dealt with
Tomas and Styles. Perhaps even, Robinson did not know where the
role-playing of Derek Styles ended, and reality took over, if
there was any reality to Robinson at all?
After re-reading the various files that jointly constituted
file-R.I.P./unedit, and were files the three FBI Agents were
constantly adding to, editing, and updating, Tomas understood
that Robinson had sought Tomas and Styles out not because he
simply knew they were the two remaining divined good Players.
No. Robinson knew that due to shared alien experiences, and
their reactions to shared alien experiences, Robinson had known
he could count on them to follow the R.M.J.-case through rite to
the truly bloody and twisted ugly end. Tomas said this to
Styles. Tomas also pointed out that Robinson was such a realist
he wasn’t even going firstly on the presumption that they were
two of the divined good Players, but rather was going on what he
knew about their World/lives, and their reactions to IT alone.
Styles’ response was to say he had always known this.
Tomas felt as cheap and dirty as RO-Culture had always
self-conspired
to
make
him
feel
at
a
gut/visceral/emotional/unconscious level. Nobody had ever truly
cared for, or valued the lone, bum orphan, Stephen Tomas. Tomas
felt Robinson only wanted Tomas kept around, to remind Styles,
of what was wrong with one area of the failed human World/life.
Yet, was one area of the failed human World/life not yet gone so
far wrong, that people like Tomas could not be saved and
redeemed and reclaimed from DCC-made-with-UE and then be put
under the spell of PP:FCIC-made-with-IG. Tomas’ presence then
was required to self-motivate Styles to succeed, while having a
close frame of reference of what was wrong with the failed human
World/life to work with.
In direct opposition, Styles’ presence was required to
ensure Tomas did not turn to self-corruption. Tomas could never
stop believing in Styles, even when Tomas stopped believing in
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
386
himself. This was due to the fact that Tomas’ IG rose up an
interpretation of Styles’ identity when his IG got close to his
conscious mind. His IG then filled him with the reflected glory
of its self-love while IG projected its interpretation of
Styles’ identity. It really was then as if it was Styles who was
the real source of the self-love in Tomas. Therefore it was not
Tomas who self-conceived his own/ed being as being full of selflove, due to his own/ed IG. No, it was Styles’ identity he
conceived as been full of self-love-that came out of Styles and
touched all those around him and changed them for the better.
This caused dissociation and division in Tomas’ personality. He
felt he was not a whole man. He was stopped by such conceptions
as Styles’ identity being the being that represented the selflove in Tomas, from Tomas fully accessing the self-love in him
for him. Yet simultaneously anytime he tried to stop loving
Styles or believing in him as a great man, Tomas felt he’d
fallen back down into all out psychological/spiritual hell.
This of course was the type of rotten trick so many
Religions played on the gullible and ignorant and exploited
masses, through the idea of saints and saviors watching over the
sinners-expected to pray to such imaginary personalities that
really represented the unconscious instinctive goodness IG and
the foundational soul pattern in the individual. Yet the
individual saw the IG and the soul as a greater, and even
psychic force and personality than the individual-alone was, due
to such concepts as Religions self-trained people to believe in
that unconscious intellects represented external powers that
knew the will of God. At some level then people were all selftrained, self-prepared, self-educated, self-fashioned to believe
he and she were psychic. He and she should worship imaginary
powers if he and she wished to achieve a fate or destiny down on
Earth?
Yet the complete reverse was the truth. It was the
conscious being that had a fate or destiny. The unconscious
intellects were meant to be just learning aids/spiritual
guides/unconscious mind slaves of the so unique master in the
house that is the conscious mind. And yet Tomas and Styles
thought they were two good divined players? And yet Robinson
said this not might be the case and to forget all about the
concept and simply get on with the work at hand?
Roger Madican James had clearly stated over and over again
no one should worship unconscious intellects in exchange for
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
387
emotional/mental/physical rewards, thus becoming a mindless
pleasure seeker, seeking pleasure from what had nothing to do
with the independent and so unique conscious being. Rather, the
individual should use unconscious intellects as mere learningaids/spiritual guides of the conscious life force spirit to work
out what was the correct thing to do with ones World/life, and
then to be able to go out and do it?
Tomas expected more from Styles and Robinson than to try
and insist this psychological blockage always remained in place
in Tomas, while encouraging him to play the constant RO-Culture
critic role. Such a role meant he always had to connect with his
own/ed UE and summon up pure hate/revenge drive, in order to
come up with his arguments/mental vomit designed to destroy all
pure conscious logic in Styles, and to self-magnify UE-inspired
conscious-self-deconstructing rage in Styles, and self-magnify
the body-of-UE-purpose-sanctioned-raised-information pacifically
aimed to mislead conscious Styles from the actual truth. As such
Tomas always remained an unfulfilled and divided, emotionally
crippled man in a constant state of self-war where he tried to
blame Styles for his pain and the evil in himself. As such he
had to abuse Styles in the name of slowing down the decay of his
conscious mind. Tomas then could never realize his true
potential as a good and worthwhile human being. And yet Robinson
and Styles said this was the RO-Culture critic role Tomas had
been born destined to play?
Though Robinson and Styles were out to work out a way to
try and redeem the ignorant masses Tomas represented, they
simply would not let Tomas get well until they figured out that
way. Tomas felt yet again that in this World/life, even people
like Robinson and Styles were only interested in what others
could do for them. This touched a real raw nerve in Tomas. The
lonely orphan Tomas still didn’t know who he was. He was
desperately dependant on the friendship and acceptance of
Robinson and Styles. He was desperately in need of Styles and
Robinson reinforcing his self-chosen delusional role in this
World/life for fear if they did not, his personality would
deteriorate. If he was to ever feel good at all, then it was
because he got close to his IG. His IG then as the sum of its
beliefs and following a repetitive instinctive pattern worked
automatically, and didn’t know the difference between fact and
fiction. His IG would reinforce any pure thought and image an IG
had inspired in the mind of man, and that a man chose to
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
388
consciously-focus upon, and build upon. Then his IG working this
way wasn’t even about truth, but about the shallow end trueindependent-conscious-self-misleading
byproduct/distorted
reflection of the truth. It was just a mindless unconscious
intellect following predetermined patterns having dreams in
response to what was fed into IG.
IT WAS ALL JUST DUMB LUCK I WENT DOWN TO D-BLOCK,-‘61? IF
IT’D BEEN STYLES WHO’D GONE DOWN, I’D NOT BE HERE WORKING AS
STYLES PARTNER, SIMPLE AS THAT! YEARS BACK, STYLES WOULD HAVE
DISMISSED ME AS YET ANOTHER IN A LONG LINE OF COMMON VAIRETY
BORN MORALLY BANKRUPT CONSCIOUS-BUMS, AND RO-CULTURE LOSERS!
MORE IMPORTANT THEN IS THE QUESTION… WHY DID POSTMESCICROGER ALLOW ME TO MORTALLY SURVIVE MY MORTAL WORLD/LIFE RITE
JUDGMENT, AND ESCAPE THE D-BLOCK,-’61 SELF-SALUGHTERHOUSE? FOR
WHAT ALTERNATIVE NEGATIVE WORLD/LIFE PURPOSE EXACTLY?
These
types
of
conscious-self-deconstructing,
paradoxically-nightmarish-conscious-mind-ensnaring
thoughts
endlessly circling his self-tormenting RO-Culture self-critical
mindset often-left Tomas unable to sleep.
Both Robinson and Styles told Tomas repeatedly that a
personal World/life outside of his work life was not advised,
and never encouraged. The Postmescic mind God would be looking
for anyway IT could find to self-corrupt Tomas. IT could do so
by hurting anyone he got close to and formed a personal
relationship/connection with. Nonetheless, Tomas met Dorsey.
Dorsey became his common law wife for a year.
Around this time in his World/life a third time came when
the near constant under/cover man didn’t recognize his younger
self. He felt totally at a loss to self-perceive whoever he had
imagined himself to be only last year. He was not then evolving
into an increasing wiser and purer being who constantly evolved
onto a better version of himself as the Collective forces that
are Mother Nature expected him to, and as such he could look
back and see how he’d gone from one state to the next. No. He
was de-evolving into evil and as such losing increasing more
sense of his original conscious self until time after time he
failed to recognize who really was.
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
389
PART 2
(OF 4-PARTS)
No middle name Stephen Tomas was working late. He was going
over
and
over
the
original
file-R.I.P./unedit,
and
the
photographs that captured some sense of the bizarre way Roger
had so coldly discarded and abandoned his wasted Human Reason
Victims on the planet Earth. He went over and over Robinson’s
typed description of the alien Reason dark self-retreating back
inside Roger’s tattered torso in the underground jailhouse back
in August of 1964. He got drunk. He went home. He passed out.
He woke. He discovered he was back in the same nightmare
that had begun in his teens, if not really upon the day his
father had said he was going to buy a newspaper and had then up
and abandoned him-then three years old on that street corner
where a dirty old newspaper was blowing as someone’s discarded
trash. The FBI agent who had woken him told him his common law
wife Dorsey was in hospital.
Robinson had shifts made up of two FBI Special Agents
constantly watching Tomas around the clock. These agents main
job was to ensure Tomas’ physical safety at all times from soultesting World/life event/circumstances, even when Tomas was not
working on anything as a fictional undercover character in
controlled World/life conditions. It was two such Special Agents
on their way in to report for their shift that had met Dorsey
hurrying towards the downstairs apartment building door. She had
been covered in blood. Her own/ed. They had stopped her in her
tracks. They had called the local authorities and for an
ambulance. They had refused to accompany her to the hospital.
Instead, they had come in to wake Tomas. They were under strict
orders from Robinson to constantly watch over Tomas and to never
leave him out of their sight.
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
390
Tomas squirmed. He noted the dark and contemptuous look in
the Special Agents eyes. IT somehow self-judged him as nothing
but conscious scum floating upon the dark spiritual waters
interned
within
the
witch’s-universal-World/lifeevent/circumstance-churning,
universal-UE-fating-mold-cauldron.
He became self-convinced during his blackout he must have hurt
Dorsey real bad. He imagined himself shouting insane statements
such as…
YOU’RE A REAL PIG-BITCH AREN’T YOU? A RITE FILTHY WHORE OF
POSTMESCIC MORTALITY, SELF-ENTERTAINING YOUR MORTAL-WORLD/LYDELUSIONS!
As he worked to take away any promising future she might
have… In fact, he realized he had never left the D-Block,-’61
self-slaughterhouse nightmare. He had only been fooling himself
that he had. In his drunken state he must have thought…
DORSEY REMINDED ME I’M THE DAMNED! THE LUST SHE INSPIRED IN
ME, REMINDED ME OF MY OWN/ED UE, THE SOURCE OF MY LUST FOR HER,
AND JUST HOW MORTAL AND WEAK AND VULNERABLE I-TRULY AM TO UE’S
INFLUENCE!
In a flash he pictured himself smashing a beer bottle over
Dorsey’s head. He saw Dorsey all bloody and screaming. She was
weeping as he called her a REAL PIG BITCH, FILTHY WHORE OF
POSTMESCIC MORTALITY, WHO WAS NOT GOING TO BE ALLOWED TO GO BACK
TO INORA-HEAVEN, IF HE WAS ANYONE TO GO BY. He was lurching
around in a drunken stagger stalking her around the small
apartment.
It turned out Dorsey had to get sixteen stitches. This
resulted in scar tissues that forever spoiled her great physical
beauty. Other men would no longer give her a second appreciative
glance. Her future was not bright. IT looked like she’d always
be cursed to misfortune. Yet Tomas had not been the one to hurt
her. Dorsey only looked confused when Tomas asked her if he’d
beaten her when he’d been operating in an alcohol-induced
blackout.
‘No,’ she simply said. She slowly shook her head in
bewilderment in the hospital bed.
While descending the apartment building stairwell, a
stranger had attacked and raped her. The rest was all down to
the guilty-imaginings of the self-doubting, self-quoting, ROGorilla-man Thomas. He neither had faith nor trust in his own/ed
truest nature, as much as he had no faith or trust in the human
World/life. Nonetheless, the truth didn’t change anything. Both
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
391
Styles and Robinson had warned Tomas time and time again not to
start a personal World/life outside of his controlled World/life
work conditions. The Postmescic mind God would be looking for
every opportunity to inspire someone to do something, to ensure
Tomas would be more vulnerable to falling to spiritual selfcorruption. Due to Tomas having a deeply personal connection to
Dorsey, the Postmescic mind God was able to get him at every
level, emotional and unconscious and conscious, where his
unconscious evil had a real firm grip on his conscious mind he
had great difficulty breaking.
Yet Dorsey really had been beaten and raped by a stranger!
This then was no fictional undercover role! There were a lot of
negative images floating around out there within the Vexation
framework lending itself to the support of the body of
Postmescic mind God. The only thing the Postmescic mind God
would need-would be to find a self-corrupt human, ready to
indulge and consciously cultivate these dark ideas/imaginings
through a DCC-made-with-UE connection. Then in waking reality,
in response to the dark ideas/imaginings that person to take
physical action. There was little room for self-doubt in Tomas
then that the Postmescic mind God had inspired some cheap street
thug to do what had to bring greatest World/life misfortune into
Dorsey and Tomas’ World/lives. IT could actually be that it was
due to Tomas’ undercover work that some scumbag had started to
spy on Tomas in the first place? He had then seen Dorsey in
Tomas’ company, despite the fact that when Tomas drove home from
work he took many diverse roots and tried to lose all tails?
When Tomas mentioned his suspicion to Styles and Robinson, Tomas
got no argument from them.
Dorsey failed to identity her rapist. Tomas felt even worse
off. He decided the relationship had to end for Dorsey’s sake.
The real facts were that his IG had communicated its
interpretation of Dorsey’s identity to his conscious mind. IG
had made him feel full of self-love when he was with her. Often
the couple would laugh and feel trickled by golden IG inspired
light. When he made love to her even his erection felt to be
tickling him and so full of bright yellow light. After the
trauma, he ended up figuring Dorsey figured he was rejecting her
because of her new facial scarring, and because a rapist had
sullied her.
As if the last ember of golden light that lit the
foundations of his imagined personality had been snuffed out,
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
392
dark and blackest and so very spiritually cold primal–UE-mindinspired-delusions arose. Delusional thinking or not, he only
knew he never again would put any outsider into such a risky
World/life situation so he might personally benefit in some way.
He wasn’t meant to be feeling good about himself anyway? Not in
a World/life as evil as this one was? He had larger
responsibilities. His time was not his own/ed. Due to his alien
World/life experiences no one else had, he owed humanity his
best shot of working out a resolution and the truth. He had no
rite to a personal World/life or escape until he did. He owed.
He owed big time. He owed so much he never knew a moments peace
from his worries regarding his higher responsibilities to the
rest of humanity.
Robinson seemed most enraged over the fact that if a rapist
had managed to get to Dorsey, even if on the lonely and poorly
lit stairwell, then Tomas was not been watched closely enough by
his FBI-bodyguards.
During the most particular waking reality World/life days
Tomas felt most sickened over the fact that Dorsey would forever
now find it hard to attract a man now that she had terrible
scarring, he dreamed most vividly of the Ethile Infatueata
sleeping in Cidean, the untouchable and perfected mortal beauty
Goddess. He felt the World/life itself had self-conspired to
play a cruel trick on him. He had never so clearly pictured the
whole World/life as already spiritually dead, and long-gone to
the all-consuming State/mind Postmescic/Embodiment-hell. He
reckoned until now, a stubborn conscious-part of him had merely
insisted on pretending his World/life to be fully alive with
authentic and genuinely good people, with good conscious minds,
just so he might feel better about himself. He could then selfmaintain some sense of independent conscious self, which was a
selfish desire in itself that had nothing to do with the way
things really were in this World/life-a total evil-purposeserving failure where everyone was so totally mentally ill
everyone else was out to ensure everyone else remained or became
a total failure, and was never given any realistic means that
could allow the self to get well again as a true winner.
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
393
PART 3
(OF 4-PARTS)
One dark night he returned to his empty and silent
apartment. As usual his route back here had been illogical and
crazy as he had tried to loose anybody who might be tailing him
or spying on him. For the waking reality World/life first time
he became conscious of just how loudly the many clocks were all
ticking away.
Stephen Tomas gathered all his cash. He kept his cash at
home rather than give it to some bank to invest on his behalf.
He hated to think of the fat cats at the top of the seniority
chain becoming richer and keeping themselves on top, through
profits gleaned from the capital made up of the combined small
accounts lodged by ordinary people-who were basically been
exploited at work so someone else could get richer off of his or
her labors and make as much money out of his and her work, as
the people doing the work did.
He headed out to gamble in one of the illegal, but highbrow
and discrete casino establishments he knew about thanks to his
work as an undercover cop. He strode down the street to his car.
He happened to spot Robinson sitting in a parked car.
Robinson had the passenger window cranked open an inch or two.
Styles sat before the steering wheel. Both men stared directly
ahead through the dirty windscreen into the nightlight.
‘Snake Eyes-in memory of Roger’s Snake Eyes within the DBlock,-’61 self-slaughterhouse confines?’ said Robinson. He
glanced at Tomas. Tomas was rubbing his two fingers and thumb
together as if Tomas had a terrible itch to scratch. ‘You know
UE will somehow manipulate your hand to throw Snake Eyes, Tomas…
Just to mock your delusional state of mind?
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
394
‘Pop… And you’ll feel like a lost self-haunting spirit
merely dreaming you are still mortally alive. Who can ever only
bring pain and misfortune into the World/lives of any human you
encounter on your self-haunting-ghostly-travels through this
World/life so entirely of yours alone… as IT works to reflect
back at you the real ugly truth/reality of your secured state of
damnation down in Postmescic/Embodiment hell.
‘You were warned a long time ago there can be no escaping
for you! Not even for a moment. You are an Inora-divined good
Player! Best you face your responsibilities! The sooner you do,
the better off you will be. In recent years, thanks to so much
practice, the more you gamble on the dice, the more you win… And
you know this full well Tomas… IT won’t allow you to loose as
long as your reaction is status quo.’
‘I’m too angry to talk to you, two guys, rite about now,’
Tomas grumbled. He crossed the street. A wind blew past him. He
glanced at the extra security Robinson had following Tomas since
the attack had taken place on Dorsey. Robinson had already
forgotten Dorsey. How could Robinson be such a coldhearted,
indifferent bastard? Styles to… Yet there were children left to
starve and rot to death in third World/life countries… Tomas
didn’t worry about such children like he did Dorsey? And yet
each human was of equal value?
If the human World/life were a fair and just and good
place, he would not have required Dorsey as his friend and
lover. He would have loved everyone equally, and everyone would
have loved him, like one big family all out to help and support
each other, and constantly out to build each other up instead of
been all out to tear everyone down? Yet wasn’t this what he was
trying to ensure through his work? Spiritual knowledge that once
used correctly, should allow humanity to self-create such a fair
and just and self-loving World/life that worked collectively to
be self-supportive of all like one organism, rather that the
unjust and unfair and constantly then self-punishing World/life,
all self-fractured and self-divided and in a state of constant
self-war, and out to tear itself apart? He was no better than
Robinson and Styles then. He only cared about Dorsey because of
what good things she could do for Tomas? He was such a selfish
pleasure-seeking bastard. He knew full well the work he was
doing could result in all of humanity being saved.
Robinson nodded his head at the FBI-Agents in the car on
the opposite side of the street. He self-signified to them that
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
395
they were to let Tomas go on and about his earthly World/life
business. But were to ensure Tomas was not let out of their
sight, not for an instant.
Styles sat in a still silence. He was staring directly
ahead through the dirty windscreen. He never once looked at
Tomas. No doubt the THOMAS-MERCHANDISE THAT HAD TO BE WATCHED
AND CONTROLLED AND TAKEN CARE OF, LIKE SOME BIRD LOCKED INTO
IT’S TORTURE-CAGE was now considered to be in a conscious-selfdeconstructing frame of mind. Such a state of mind could ensure
the merchandise was damaged? Or that the merchandise, all
chained up by nightmarishly paradoxical thought chains aimed to
mislead conscious-him from the actual truth, ran off rather than
face his real World/life responsibilities in regard to carrying
out the work that only served to make Tomas feel constantly and
endlessly worse off, and like he was a born conscious-UE-sucker
to even try to do such work, for IT could only be all in vein?
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
396
PART 4
(OF 4-PARTS)
A mirror secured in a shining gold frame was erected on the
lobby door that let one into the main casino. The mirror
reflected a customer’s face back at him as he stood upon the
grand lobby’s marble floor. Erected over the mirror was an
engraved sign informing Tomas…
INVITED CASINO
GUESTS ONLY
He was an exception to this rule. As an FBI Special Agent,
who had once worked as an undercover cop in this district, the
proprietor would dearly love to see Tomas lose. Or better yet,
form an addiction to losing.
He turned every last dime he had ever saved into chips. He
self-prepared to bet all of these chips on a single roll of the
dice. The higher the stakes, the greater the loss, then the more
ordinary and powerless Tomas would feel. He needed to feel
pretty ordinary and powerless rite about now. He wanted to know
in his heart of hearts what had happened to his common law wife
Dorsey, was not his fault in anyway. Yet he knew of course that
IT was. He’d been thinking only about himself and not his larger
World/life responsibilities. He’d been punished for IT, just as
he would be in the next life if he insisted on trying to adapt
to, and get on with, and did not try to change the failed
World/life for the better. What rite did he have to be thinking
only of himself, and the fate of the entire human race on the
line? He couldn’t believe he could have been so self-centered
and ignorant he had lost sight of just how important his work
was? Was he insane? Down in D-Block,-’61 he’d nearly died both
physically and spiritually because of what evil human history
had created for him to confront down there? And yet what, he was
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
397
now trying to adapt and get on with such a failed, evil-purposeserving World/life that could ever, and would ever unconsciously
work to self-resurrect the Postmescic mind God so all could be
destroyed, including Tomas if he did not fight back?
He had to be totally insane! Just how effective was ROCulture
teachings
and
lies
at
training
a
body
at
a
gut/visceral/emotional/unconscious level to actually think one
wanted to add to evil, to be apart of RO-Culture, that even
Tomas, who’d seen the real evil at the end of the human drama
line, still felt compelled by his emotions and guts to try make
RO-Culture work for him so alone, and to hell with everyone
else-the great enemy-the truest nothing nobody, no ones?
The clearly insane madman tightly gripped the two dice in
his closed fist. The dice had black dots sunken through the
polished bone-white surfaces. He raised his sweaty and bony hand
above his head. He was not thinking about his bet. He was in
fact thinking about the table-felt made of the matted wool
fiber. The individual fibers had been worked together under
pressure before been died green. He was now actually hoping not
to turn up Snake Eyes. Yet Snake Eyes was the call he’d made. He
wanted an excuse to begin to back his way out of this. He wanted
to feel he was nothing but a weak man. He could not then be any
chosen or divined good Player? He was just some conscious fool
Robinson had tricked into working for him in the name of some
concept not one of the three so-called good Players could yet
even define? Humanity always valued concepts that couldn’t even
be defined, more than human World/life? He was out of touch and
step with the rest of conscious-humanity. He was helpless then
to ever hope to change his so lowly World/life situation/ROCulture self-made-condition. To turn up Snake Eyes now, would
spoil this hope. IT would fill him with the sensation he was a
mocked lost spirit, long since gone through his own/ed personal
World/life-history judgment day. He was as such merely dreaming
he was still mortally alive. He could then ever only bring pain
and misery into the World/life of any human-he dreamed he
encountered, as IT worked to reflect the real evil truth of his
state of damnation back at him. He wasn’t out to save the
World/life at all, just his own/ed spiritual World/life? The
only judgment day so very soon coming, was when he finally saw
through his spirit’s self-imposed dreams and woke to take his
rightful place in the State-mind Postmescic/Embodiment hell? He
would be filled with as much anger as the public felt at the
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
398
start of a welcomed summer, when the river spoiled everything by
turning up the corpses of murdered criminals the river had hid
under its murky mass during the winter months.
Before the dice could leave his fingers tight grasp, he
stiffened. IT felt as if a murky spotlight had been turned on
him from the mocking UE inside his own/ed unconscious mind. His
unconscious would and could never let him forget the D-Block,‘61 self-slaughterhouse. Even if he came to understand the alien
experience, this would only worsen his condition of feeling as
if he was just some lost spirit set adrift through the tides of
time, and merely dreaming up World/life event/circumstances for
he to experience firsthand in a bid to self-distract his trueself from the real hell he had long since been put within.
This was no familiar World/life audience. Other than his
bodyguards trying to self-camouflage themselves among the other
gamblers, the crowd consisted of many strangers. He may, or may
not have once busted some of him and her when he had been an
undercover cop? He couldn’t give a damn about him or her either
way. He felt as if he had dimmed out of sight of the brightly
lit and anxious crowds. The people here, the slaves of evil,
were aching to squander his and her money on impossible dreams
so the criminal owners could get richer. Slowly, he again began
to feel like a mocked ghost still in exile of his own/ed
personal mortal-World/life-rite-history-judgment day. He’d never
survived D-Block,-’61 at all? He was even now merely dreaming he
was still mortally alive? He was dreaming up then World/life
event/circumstances to occur within his conscious-mind? He had
also then dreamed up the concept that the fate of the whole
human World/life resolved solely around him so alone, as he
tried to unconsciously stack all the odds in his favor so he
could never be found out by his true self, as he dreamed only
certain types of World/life-scenes for him to act out, over and
over again as if for time without end? So he would never have to
see through his conscious-denial, and realize it was only his
own/ed personal internal World/life that was in danger of
ending, not the actual real external human World/life?
He sensed the Postmescic mind God clustering all around his
UE. Through the medium of his own/ed UE he sensed that IT was
now all out to personally mock him, and reinforce his delusional
state of mind. If Tomas were walking down a street he wouldn’t
give a damn about what the strangers who presently surrounded
him, and to whom he had no emotional connection to, thought
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
399
about him. So why would he want to be the center of attention in
a casino, as he failed to throw Snake Eyes, and lost all of his
hard earned money, so he could finally leave the casino as
another born loser, wholly unnoticed?
He was missing something. He had always missed something
about this delusion of he feeling like a lost ghost set adrift
into a World/life-history-shattering dream World from the
State/mind Postmescic/Embodiment-Reason-weaving-hell, after his
own/ed personally mortal-World/life-rite-history-judgment day
had been wrung through him.
But Dorsey had been raped! She was no dream figment simply
made up by some spirit dreaming down in hell he was still
mortally alive, and trying to stop his internal dream World/life
from coming to a premature end? Anyone could look at evil works
as a distant third party, coming in after the crime had taken
place? As such, such a person could remain largely unaffected.
Yet again the evil had been so deeply personalized for him. He
felt such pain he really wished his internal World/life would
end. Death would be a relief, the highest prize. He got angry.
He stiffened. He was then completely oblivious to the
feverish crowds of sick born losers/slaves of the force of evil
who surrounded him. He and she crowded in on the man caught inbetween some unconscious inspired internal World/life-historyshattering
dream
World/life,
and
an
external
physical
World/life. Cigar and cigarette smoke and sweaty customers
continued to crowd in on him. IT was as if the people were eager
to suffocate the higher understanding out of him. This
understanding marked Tomas out as a true winner. He only had to
summon the self-belief in his own/ed potential for great
conscious-humanity, that he had to have somewhere in him,
because otherwise he’d never have survived the D-Block,-’61
self-slaughterhouse? He’d have instead become the very first
Human Reason Victim?
Yes… Without truest conscious humanity he would have become
the first successfully completed Human Reason Victim, selfargued out of existence by evil logic? He remembered his true
good and independent conscious-self. He was somehow divorced
from his own/ed UE-out to try to get him to associate the forces
of
judgmental
State/mind
Postmescic/Embodiment-Reason-selfdreaming-hell with his true good conscious self.
Slowly, he put down the two dice. He picked up his chips.
The crowd groaned. Another man emerged out of the faceless
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
400
crowds to take his place. It really didn’t matter who threw the
dice. Only that there was some potentially lucky stranger’s hand
that represented the hand of fate, chance and change, to throw
it. Yet there were never any true winners, not in this casino,
only losers? At the last possible second, he noted he had but
one chip left to remove from the table. He did not let the two
dice drop free and clear from his hand. He knew his UE followed
predetermined patterns, and could then only function one way, no
matter what negative World/life experiences worked to influence
his UE. His UE was by now all out to make him feel mocked due to
his present state of mind he was capable of reforming at any
given time? Given he had formed the state of mind so often in
the past in reaction to he experiencing a certain series of
thoughts and emotions-he was more than capable of reenacting at
will?
He tightened his grip on the dice. He raised his hand
again. He put a stop to his replacement’s advance. He had left a
chip of the lowest value on the table. He did not wish to
benefit personally in his fight against evil. He truly wished
only to help others, even if he himself had to greatly suffer,
and he never, ever knew any personal gain.
Now in a state of higher awareness, he just knew how to,
and then did actually cast the two dice.
‘Snake Eyes!’ the dealer exclaimed.
The audience gasped. The audience imagined Tomas felt like
a born looser just like he and she were who never won big. He
had removed the majority of his bet-that could have won him so
much if only he’d let it all ride, as he’d first intended. The
audience was wrong. Even before the dealer called Snake Eyes,
Tomas had already been in the process of turning his back and
walking away. He would never again return to the crowds of
gamblers who had never grasped Tomas’ real achievement. Though
he or she should have, none of the audience had understood what
had really happened. Anyone who could accurately intuit how UE
worked, would immediately have known.
While at the betting table, Tomas had just done the reverse
of what he would have usually done. He’d consciously predicted
that, after suffering through certain all-revealing evil
World/life event/circumstances, and after thinking the correct
sequence of thoughts, and experiencing the rite type of emotions
in
reaction
to
those
alien
negative
World/life
event/circumstances, he’d reformed a particular state of mind.
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
401
He had consciously connected with UE. He had been able to
consciously use his very own/ed UE, to simply know how he could
throw Snake Eyes.
Upon winning, instead of feeling self-mocked, as if he was
just some lost self-haunted spirit long since self-judged as no
good, with no hope of outthinking the Postmescic mind God or
finding personal self-salvation, he’d learned how to exploit
this twisted ugly state of affairs for his own/ed benefit. In
the future, if he wished once again to throw Snake Eyes, he
could easily reform the particular state of mind when he felt
like a lost spirit merely dreaming he was still mortally alive.
Then his UE, self-trained by the Postmescic mind God to mock
that state of mind when he came into touch with the whole and
complete and truly good conscious-Tomas, who was capable of
beating IT at IT’s own/ed damned game, would inspire in him the
instinctive knowledge/gut instinct on how to throw the Snake
Eyes. As a conscious mind, he now knew for sure he could control
how his UE reacted to World/life event/circumstances for his
own/ed benefit. This meant UE could be tricked by his conscious
mind into working to do, what conscious Tomas wanted his UE to
do. It would just mean constant conscious-self-awareness, and
working out how UE stove to manipulate conscious-Tomas, and then
Tomas using that conscious-knowledge to do the complete reverse,
he manipulating UE, for his own/ed end benefit. As such UE
should allow him to become a good file-R.I.P./unedit salesman.
Knowing in advance as a certainty he would roll Snake Eyes,
and then doing so, he had in a fashion made the very real and
physical World/life react, and temporarily bow down before his
conscious-will, to determine the outcome of a betting table,
despite the mighty high odds working against him in a casino
where there never were any big winners.
He had left his winnings behind him. This wasn’t about his
personal gain. Like Styles always said…
If you are to suffer anyway, you might as well suffer for a
truly great work-that could come to constitute the true and
final and only pure Religion on Earth. Reject all of mortality.
‘Synchrony,’ he muttered into the cold wind that greeted
him. He stepped from the casinos side-exit doorway and into the
dimly lit back alleyway. He was staring at his very physical and
very real hand. It had just thrown Snake Eyes. His hand was
controlled by the mind. The mind controlled his perception of
reality. The combined human minds created what constituted the
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
402
human World/life, not the Postmescic mind God who was meant to
be conscious humanities unconscious mind slave. What else then
could he control? Could he control his experiences with Cidean
and the Ethile Infatueata and the Irapi? What would that control
lead him onto? Styles said his D-Block,-’61 self-slaughterhouse
World/life experiences had left Tomas’ unconscious mind full of
spiritual knowledge of the entire Postmescic mind God selfresurrection story? Could Tomas learn to control World/life
social patterns, and people, and even the Postmescic-mind-God
still in mere formation?
‘You happy to now move on Tomas?’ a voice said. ‘Now that
you know what we’re at… is no mere demonic joker/Postmescic
hell’s
own/ed
stereotype/rotten-RO-heart
demonic
spiritual
clockwork horror time peacekeeping toy’s last desperate act of
simple conscious-denial.’
He turned. Styles stood in the side alleyway. A wind blew
an old newspaper towards Styles. It caught on his ankle.
‘You saw me throw…’
‘I saw your eyes!’ Styles said coldly but quietly. ‘I
didn’t have to see past the crowds, to know what the results on
the betting table were going to be. Now, you know it’s no
World/life accident Robinson and I chose you… We always saw your
true potential. No World/life accident either, Robinson’s selfjustifying, self-motivating logo concerned the six divined sons,
of the seventh self-mirroring, Roger Madican James game playing,
Postmescic-man.’
‘Robinson,’ Tomas said. ‘He always said my World/life
experiences of purgatory down in D-Block,-‘61…’
‘Wrong! File-R.I.P./unedit Tomas!
‘ROGER
STILL-IN-PURGATORY;
UNDERSTANDING
EMOTIONAL/SPIRITUAL DEATH IN TIME!’ Styles interrupted. ‘It was
no accident or mere luck you survived then D-Block,-’61 selfslaughterhouse… IT tried to self-convince conscious-you of the
self-argument you should turn yourself into the very first Human
Reason Victim so your spiritual energy could be added to ITs
mind! But only no World/life accident on your part Tomas!
‘You thought the correct sequence of conscious-thoughts,
formed the correct state of mind! The Postmescic mind God never
counted on you having what it would take, to outthink, and thus
free your conscious mind from IT’s invading and so-possessive
influence, and so persuasive self-arguments. This makes you
better and more-good than the average human being presently
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
403
alive out there in the failed World/life never intended to be.
If you don’t believe me, just you remember what happened during
IT’s next two attempts to create Human Reason Victims…
‘Both times the job was successfully pulled off without a
hitch. Conscious-Roger was both physically/mortally dead before
the human victims!
‘But you did escape IT! You were forever then marked down
as one of the good three players against the three bad. Even
Robinson, down in the underground jailhouse back in August of
1964, never faced such a truly soul-destroying and trying-test
as that!
‘Me… I’ve never faced IT all out in the open, at all. That
means ultimately you could be the best of all three of us! Who
can know a conscious life force spirit’s true worth, until such
a trying-test is truly faced down and overcome? Maybe that makes
you even better than me… And the truth you imagine then, is the
complete reverse!’
Tomas nodded. ‘File-R.I.P./unedit! Yah, rite, I’m beginning
to…’
‘File-R.I.P./unedit is where the real control will all stem
from,’ Styles said. ‘Once the file-R.I.P./unedit blueprint for
the covert government program is funded, and becomes a physical
reality… we alone will basically be running, and controlling the
historic events of the country, if not the entire known human
World/life. You understand Tomas. No one knows IT yet, and no
one but us has the foresight to understand just how much
universal influence we are going to glean as soon as the fileR.I.P.-program becomes a reality. We have that foresight due to
black-Postmescic-arts-predictions,
and
personal
World/life
experiences of dealing with IT-all running order over all but us
three… And by the time anyone realizes the true extent of just
what has been handed over to us to all but manage on behalf of
all… it will be too late for anyone to stop us. What Robinson
and I have done is to build our very own/ed blueprint into our
file… and build our very own/ed laws… whose true value will
never be seen for what they really are by anyone else, until
World/life event/circumstances become truly alien. Only then
will IT be realized our laws, are the only laws capable of
controlling and safely dealing with IT…
‘We have not failed to self-learn from this universal
blueprint weaver, that was always meant to be a mere slave of
the conscious mind. Just like your mind that controlled the
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
404
hand-that threw the dice, and won a lot of money for a whole lot
of people but your own/ed self…
‘We are the three file-R.I.P./unedit men who’ll be placing
our file, the one good bet of defeating/safely resolving the
Postmescic mind God. We will place that bet on behalf of all of
conscious-humanity.
If
we’re
rite,
the
file-R.I.P./unedit
blueprint… and the new laws contained therein… and founded on
our reaction to the Postmescic mind God that presently runs this
IT’s made-World/life to ITs order… will ensure when everything
soon turns out exactly as we expect things to, then not only
will our worldly position be proven as just, and our rite to do
what we must… But equally there will be no way for anyone to
remove us from that so worldly position, unless we want them to,
CM;3-style…
‘Not by argument to congress or by force… We’ll be too
powerful. We’ll have to be. All of humanity is indifferent to
the
truth.
Pleasure-seeking
humanity
is
apparently
only
interested in serving and feeling good about the self… and yet
so warped by evil even when told the truth, humanity feels only
the UE-hate/revenge drive and the desire to destroy or dismiss
that truth… even if humanity feels hate and misery in response
to the desire to destroy and hold onto the old and outdated and
useless belief systems and ways of doing things-that can, and
always have, only ensured complete failure and constant selfpunishment for all.
‘Pleasure seeking leading then to only misery and pain and
evil… Just as the desire to be self-serving and to grab all for
the self alone, ensures the majority get nothing in comparison
to what reality would be if everyone worked collectively to give
everything to everyone else…
‘Just you wait and see… IT’ll be us Tomas, he or she will
all have to bow down before and answer to… No mere concept, us,
not to he and she. Has to be this way, because I trust no one
but myself on this thing of ours alone, to do the rite thing,
even IT is here, evolved out of human history. For everyone I’ve
ever-met Tomas, other than Robinson and you, are the UE-human
pawns. Even those society say are saints and good men and women,
are controlled by evil alone and so are indifferent to the
truth. He and she simply represent another minor World/life
society out to self-support itself so people within the
World/life society, can feel good about the self-chosen,
delusion belief system and the self-chosen delusional self-
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
405
image. He and she, even as IG and soul pawns, will simply refuse
to face IT then, until he or she are forced to against his and
her very will, and so feel he or she have no other choice.’
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
406
16
(IN 2-PARTS)
PART 1
(OF 2-PARTS)
By 1969 Robinson was basically confined to his house. He
spent his World/life days in his head office, behind drawn
curtains and blinds, locked windows and door. He had the
fireplace blazing in an effort to relieve the alien glacial cold
in his self-diseased bones. Usually, and unless absolutely
necessary, he didn’t even try to move from his desk. From this
makeshift command center he used his phone to direct his
investigations out in the real World/life. He called on Styles
and Tomas when he had a new assignment for them, or a new area
he wanted them to look into on his behalf.
Mostly, he was glad to be locked into a hot room with the
heavy curtains drawn, and the room lit by artificial light. At
least here, he didn’t have to physically face the so very nasty
reality of the real World/life. Within the confines of his
artificial but cozy cocoon, he could imagine whatever he wanted,
in concern to the likelihood of his success and victory over ITall. But he could never escape sleep and dreams, no matter how
hard he tried to flee and consciously-deny. His dreams seemed to
be in the process of taking over his waking reality.
He woke feeling spiritually cold. By the time he recovered
enough to feel he had truly woken, it would be close to the
World/life day’s end. Before he knew IT, the fatigue would be
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
407
upon him again. He would need to sleep again. This so
repetitious cycle would continue. With each passing week the
spiritual cold lasted that bit longer after he first woke.
By mid 1969 he had the same reoccurring dream nearly every
World/life night. He sat in an empty movie theatre. He watched
the horrors of manmade famines and wars and crime and murders
and mental illness way up on the silver screen. In the theatres
dark, he could not see his own/ed human body. He could just
about make out the other sole occupant. IT was Roger Madican
James. Roger was a full grown and massive man, sitting in here
with him. Postmescic-Roger sat real quietly in his selfreflecting, and totally intense seething fury.
Then Roger stood in front of the glowing movie screen. IT
was as if Roger was trying to trick both Robinson, and even
conscious-Roger himself, into the belief Roger glowed with light
because of a COLD SPIRITUAL POSTMESCIC UNIVERSAL BLUEPRINT TOMB,
IMITATING THE MOONLIGHT THAT HAD ONCE FALLEN UPON ROGER’S
CORPSE, THE NIGHT HE’D KILLED HIMSELF DOWN IN D-BLOCK,-’61! SO
CONSCIOUS-ROGER COULD NEVER FORGET HE WAS THE RIGHTFULLY WON
DAMNED POSTMESCIC PROPERTY!
Yet, in the dream, Robinson knew it was the silver screen
aura that was reflecting off Roger’s large profile and making
him look so illuminant. Before Roger spoke, Robinson looked all
around him. He thought of Roger been strangled with a cheap
imitation black leather RO-school belt in Lee’s barn… He
mistakenly thought he heard a voice say something about how
Robinson was in Roger… Just as Robinson decided he was mistaken
about the voice, Roger really would be saying…
‘ALL THE NEATLY LAID OUT BALLS
CAGED IN BY FOUR PADDED WALLS
WITH ONE SINGLE CUE-BLAST DO ALL ROLL RANDOMLY TO AND FRO
EVERY WHICH WAY, TRYING NOT TO SINK FROM SIGHT
HIDING BEHIND ONE ANOTHER AS IF THEY COULD EVER DISAPPEAR
FROM THE DIRECTOR’S FRAME!
‘PRE-SET RULES OF PRE-SET MATCH
HERE NOW THE HUSTLER
DOES MAKE HIS EARLY-RETURN FROM THE GRAVE
FAST EDDIE FELSON, SUCH AN EASY MARK
TO RE-PLAY MINNESOTA FATS!
‘SOON TO, THOUGH, CINCINNATI KID MCQUEEN
NOW FINALLY FROM GRAND FUNERAL DEATH-MARCH-BEAT DID GO
BY DIRECTOR’S HAND TO BRIGHT, BRIGHT SEARING WHITE
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
408
CELLULOID FRAME
THROUGH NARROWING WINDING STREETS
ALL LEADING ONLY TO THE GRAND MASTER’S THRONE!
‘AND STEVE MCQUEEN AS CINICINNATI KID
DID GET CUT DOWN UNDER SO QUICK AND SWIFT
BY EDWARD G. ROBINSON’S-UNCOILING
SO QUICK, SO SWIFT, ALREADY BLOODED, BLOOD RED
ONE-EYED DIAMOND-JACK/ED-BLADE
TO FALL ON NEW ORLEANS DEATH STREETS
BEATEN-THEN EVEN BY A SIMPLE-CHILD AT OWN… OWN/ED DAMN/ED GAME!
‘I BROKE AUGUST’S HEART, JUST AS YOU BROKE MINE GEORGE IRA
ROBINSON… BUT YOU’LL OUTLIVE AUGUST’S MORTAL-WORLD/LIFE-RITE…
GEORGE IRA ROBINSON! THIS IS NO WISH FULFILLMENT… BUT A FACT, AS
SOUND AS A REAL-DEVIL’S PACT!’
The next World/life day, Robinson feared he was going
crazy. He went to work on one section of one of the many files
that made up file-R.I.P./unedit. He wrote and rewrote the pages
in various different ways in order to best convey the essential
meaning the body and length of text proved necessary to convey.
Every time the pages total came to exactly sixteen. Over and
over he typed and rewrote. He remembered what Roger had said to
Robinson back in 1959 on the night Robinson had delivered Roger
and Charles Edward Damien for their first night ever in RO…
Riverstem Orphanage was established in 1932…
1932? That’s the year you were born Robinson, wasn’t it? So
you never knew a World/life when this Riverstem Orphanage For
Boys did not exist?
He felt on the verge of weeping. He could never work out
how to beat his predetermined sentence to end up in the
State/mind
Postmescic-Embodiment-hell,
let
alone
beat
an
entirely predetermined universe. He was a prisoner trapped by
unbendable bars. Then his hand bashed against the typewriter. He
realized he had accidentally changed the typesetting. This gave
him some renewed self-conviction when the next total of pages he
typed amounted to twenty-four typed pages, instead of the
repetitive sixteen. The number of words remained exactly the
same.
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
409
PART 2
(OF 2-PARTS)
On May 4TH 1970, following the American invasion of
Cambodia, a hundred student strikes were in process in America.
The country was not at rest. In particular, it was the young
people who had yet to conform, who were lost in a form of a
spiritual uprising against the establishment. In Ohio a
university building was set on fire. Without mercy shown to the
agitators, National Guardsmen shot four students dead. They
wounded nine others. May 5TH the strikes rose to over a thousand.
As if in reaction to his physical World/life environment,
Robinson’s dreams became even more intense and horrific. As if
in reaction to this dream trauma he started to walk in his
sleep. Anytime Lisa told him he had been out sleepwalking again,
he was filled with dread. He did not trust what he might be
capable of doing while moving and acting and reacting in his
sleep, void of conscious direction, as much an instinctual body
as a bug. All he could remember of a previous night was his new
reoccurring dream-that had changed from Robinson sitting in the
movie theatre to Robinson leaving the movie theatre.
Once outside, he searched for the truth in the silver
fractured dark of a carnival’s trailer full of a magician’s
fireless wood stage smoke, trick mirrors, and joker clowns.
Demonic laughter accompanied the clowns when they sprang on
silver-springs out of the stage-smoke, and straight at him. Once
popped, the frightened Robinson would read the words carved into
their plastic heads…
DANGER! BEWARE! THESE DEMONIC JOKER CLOWNS ARE ROTTEN-ROHEART SPRING LOADED!
The trailer full of trick mirrors reflected ghostly
parodies of the customers to a near-infinity. The mirrors made
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
410
the trailer look infinity larger than it actually was. There
seemed to be enough self-reflections to account for every last
person alive. Yet, Robinson never seemed to remember, until he
finally woke, that he himself was in fact the only customer
there. IT was the mocking and self-parodying images of
Robinson’s own/ed human face he confused as representing the
human World/life’s entire population.
It was in this dark that he ceaselessly searched for the
image of Roger Madican James. Now and again he would catch a
glimpse of Roger in one of the mirrors. He would run in that
direction. Then Roger would be gone. Robinson would be left
running around in circles, searching for Roger long gone. Only a
warped-image of George Ira Robinson was left for Robinson to
find staring endlessly back at him after long hours of fruitless
search. Suddenly then, he would glimpse Roger again. He would be
on the run again, until finally he would mutter…
NO, I CAN’T TAKE ANYMORE… INORA MIND GOD… SHOW ME MERCY…
BRING MY PREMATURE EARTHLY END!
He woke. On his bare feet and wearing only pajamas he was
lurching around his damp back garden. It was May 1ST 1972.
The damp grass had self-stained his pajamas. He felt the
cold rising steadily through him. He was lucky not to have
frozen to death in the damp, that this time was not the figment
of a self-tormented mind causing him to self-confuse his
feverish sweat for he having wet the bed. Surely, he would have
been found stone dead if this had been the winter?
Exhausted, and even frightened of what he might have done
to his own/ed family while lumbering around in his sleep without
proper conscious direction, or control over his so very human
body-put through simply too much traumatic alien experiences for
he to ever trust his own/ed unconscious mind and body again, he
looked down at his pale hands. He held a piece of paper. He must
have torn the page out of little Richard’s school notebook.
Using crayons, little Richard had drawn a picture of a
burning gas station. Robinson had written something over this
drawing. There could be no mistaking Robinson’s lazy scrawl. He
felt he was still lost in a maze of trick mirrors and magician’s
fireless wood stage smoke. Though he had obviously written these
words in his sleep, he felt he was reading these words for the
very first World/life time. The eerie and so very self-haunting
words simply were…
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
411
LEFT FAR, SO VERY FAR BEYOND AND BEHIND AT DEMONIC
JOKER/POSTMESCIC
HELL’S
OWN/ED
STEREOTYPE/ROTTEN-ROHEART/DEMONIC
SPIRITUAL
CLOCKWORK
HORROR
TIME-PEACEKEEPING
TOY’S-LAUGHING-GASSED-AND-SMOKED GAS STATION.
What crazy state of psychic mind had he been in to word
such a sentence? He was tired of running… He was tired of the
pain… Tired of so painfully dying… Tired of the fear, the guilt,
the hate, the rage, the despair, the pain, the mental confusion,
the work, the endless and relentless and repetitive and so very
nightmarishly ensnaring and paradoxical work, the total selfsacrifice that cost him so very, very much, the worry about his
family, and in particular his beautiful baby daughter August… He
was tired of being lost in a dark maze, simply too, too-full of
trick mirrors, where puffs of magician’s smoke erupted at every
wrong turn he took, and only ghostly self-fragments of the so
much larger collective picture could be half-glimpsed, halfgrasped, after near endless long and weary hard working so very
World/life days.
He closed his eyelids. He could not understand how he could
have been so blind and so stupid… For all of this World/life
time he had simply known at some deeper level…
Had he tried to avoid facing the truth or something, until
continued conscious denial of his true and irreversible fate had
become simply impossible? This simply had to be the power of his
Inora-mind-God-given fate, not so much finally connecting with
him, but he finally in a clear enough state of mind to
consciously connect with it, always waiting for him to become
aware of it-through the medium of his own/ed soul-so deeply
repressed from access by driving UE-raised negative energy.
All of this time he’d been self-preparing and selfeducating to be ready enough, and fit enough, and self-trained
and self-styled well enough, to embrace this most particular
World/life moment when the force of fate finally came to guide
him. He just hadn’t known IT until now due to negative-UEraised-energy disrupting his conscious thinking processes, and
denying him access to his true conscious intellect and all
related conscious-soul/IG-resources.
A bird chirped in the tree branches forming a canopy over
him. In his dream, he should not have been looking into the
smoke that left his eyeballs feeling raw. He should have looked
down at the earthly ground that supported him, and would have
given him some sense of World/life direction. The so very hard
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
412
mortal World/life ground would have allowed him to find his way
out of the trailer dark.
August 1964, after starting the fire, Roger Madican James
had never been seen leaving the Harvey Jammer’s gas station.
Even more impossible, despite the fact that Roger had been the
most infamous and recognizable man in the entire State at that
time, if not the entire Nation, not one sighting of Roger
Madican James had been ever reported. Not even a single false
sighting! As a direct result there had been a lot of rumors
among agents in law enforcement that Roger had burned up with
the gas station fire. Roger had been presumed to be dead and no
longer a threat, a belief that had become stronger with each
passing World/life year there was no reported sighting or
mention of Roger Madican James showing up anywhere on this
entire Earth?
At the time, Robinson had figured, as a reflection of the
Postmescic mind God’s truest and so very mysterious nature, IT
was predictable that Roger would simply vanish without a trace
from the face of the Mother Earth. But damn IT, Roger was a
physical man! He was not smoke and wind! Also, Roger was a giant
of a man who as such would stand a head higher than the majority
of other people in a crowd?
He remembered what he had overlooked. Thanks to he been so
firmly and suddenly reconnected with his foundational soul
pattern, and all DCC-made-with-UE-blockage unexpectedly removed
from his psyche, for some unfathomable reason and through some
inexplicable means the ancient memory returned with a fresh
intensity so vivid, it startled even Robinson. It was not so
much that he’d been turned into a genius overnight. Rather he’d
been self-healed enough from DCC-made-with-UE-governed, negative
energy raised blockage overnight, for he to now retain his
original state of quick mind and intelligence?
Why now, this day, of all possible World/life days? Why had
it not occurred to Robinson yesterday, or last week, or last
month, or last year? How often had Robinson written and
rewritten his autobiography until IT had felt he’d been doing so
for time without end? But of course, even with as if for time
without end, the end had to one day come?
He simply didn’t know. He only knew that if he died before
August did, then he would have proven one of IT’s prophecy’s
wrong. All he did now know for sure, was that it was only at
this moment of self-revelation that he had come to remember a
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
413
few hours before Harvey Jammer’s murder, an anxious Harvey
Jammer gave a quick verbal statement to the State Police. Harvey
said Roger was mentally ill. Harvey figured he could prove this
by repeating something Roger had said to Harvey just before the
State Police’s arrival.
I feel weak! I just want to rest! I just want to sleep now,
and for the whole wide World/life to know the truth of what that
place of even still operational RO woe-did to my once fine mind!
I no longer want to dig myself any deeper into my own/ed selfdug trouble! I just want to get better!
The officer, who’d stayed behind at the gas station to take
formal statements, had burned up along with his notes. But what
if Harvey Jammer had not correctly heard Roger because a
spiritual Postmescic mind God force had been weighing heavily on
Harvey’s unconscious mind, hindering his intelligence just as
Robinson’s intelligence had been damaged due to his work on the
subject of anti-conscious evil? Certainly, Roger telling Harvey
he was a murderer, would have left the shocked Harvey
susceptible to confusion and UE’s self-destructive influence?
What if Roger had said something along the lines of?
I NO LONGER WANT TO DIG MYSELF ANY DEEPER INTO MY OWN/ED
SELF-DUG GRAVE? I JUST WANT TO GET BETTER!
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
414
17
(IN 4-PARTS)
PART 1
(OF 4-PARTS)
WHAT A BLAST AND A GAS
NOW THAT IT’S POSTMESCIC-FATHER ROBINSON
ALL SET NOW TO GO ABOUT
THE DEMONIC JOKER/POSTMESCIC HELL’S OWN/ED STEREOTYPE
CONSCIOUS-FOOL BUSINESS
OF FINALLY SETTING THE TRAP
OF SPRINGING COUNTER/MADE-TO/MEASURE NO;1
INTO FULL SWING AND IRREVERSIBLE WORKING ORDER!
REMEMBER ME COME THE FINAL MAY-8TH DAY
IS WHAT THE OLD CANCER-RIDDLED RO-CARE/TAKER CHARLEY BURN
SAID OVER THE SLEEPING HUMAN BODY OF ROGER MADICAN JAMES
MERE HOURS, IF NOT MERE MINUTES
BEFORE CHARLEY BURN HIMSELF DID DIE OF HIS CANCER!
May-7TH-1972 was a Sunday morning. Robinson woke thinking of
his World-War Two flamethrower. He knew there was a high
probability he would not live to see May-9TH. Yet he was resolved
to continue with his plan to active CM;1 upon Roger Madican
James. Perhaps back in August 1964, and hours before the fire
had started at Harvey Jammer’s gas station, he had once gotten
too close mentally to the future the Postmescic mind God had
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
415
been self-striving to see created for Roger Madican James, and
by Roger Madican James. Only due to conscious-ignorance of the
real images and information Robinson’s unconscious had picked up
upon, he had thought of bringing Roger’s corpse to burn in a
crematorium? As such Robinson’s mind had focused on images of
flames and flamethrowers?
Robinson could now only hope this was so given what he was
now planning required him to have such a deep and personal
spiritual connection to Postmescic-Roger. Whichever way he
looked at IT, he decided he would bring the flamethrower in the
trunk of his new Ford station wagon-that had replaced another
station wagon-that had replaced his 1959 Cadillac Fleetwood
Sixty Special used to drive Roger and Damien for their first
night ever back over operational RO. He would only take the
flamethrower out of the wagon if his plan for activating CM;1
looked like it was going to back/fire.
Tomas and Styles were to report to the Robinson household
at twelve o’clock. Then the three of the men, using Robinson’s
family wagon, the biggest and largest one available from Ford,
would begin the drive back to Silver Springs Virginia State.
This gave Robinson approximately two hours to work within.
Downstairs, little Richard, baby August, and Lisa were
having his and her breakfast. Robinson had requested his family
all be here to see him off on his trip. Let notions about going
to church be damned. Robinson no longer went to church anyway.
The Religion was nothing but a bunch of shallow end trueindependent-conscious-self-misleading
byproduct
delusions,
invented by the mind of humans, in reaction to the works of, and
a
distorted
shallow
end
true-independent-conscious-selfmisleading byproduct of the real truth that was represented by
unconscious intellects and the soul. This though did not mean he
thought to stop Lisa, who insisted on going to church, though he
did not like that Lisa also insisted on filling the children’s
heads with such garbage thinking. Such thinking caused the kids
to worship unconscious intellects and the soul as Gods and
angels and saints and prophets and psychic forces. As such IT
caused division in the personality that stopped people from
realizing his or her true potential as a whole and complete
individual. IT also stopped people from accessing the true
potential and true meaning of the unconscious mind and the soul.
IT also caused people to use Religion only as a sinner-enabler
as much as IT stopped heaven from been created on Earth, such as
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
416
Lisa was known to do. Yet, in a roundabout way, Robinson himself
was now all out to play the same type of trick on Roger Madican
James CM;1-style.
He took the time to check through his head office one last
time. He’d since taken the majority of the head office files to
be incinerated. He had left only the last and most updated copy
of file-R.I.P./unedit. This morning he intended to give it to
Styles and Tomas. Despite knowing better, he again opened all
his filing cabinets. He wished to make doubly sure all files
really had been removed and then later destroyed.
He took the large mirror off the head office wall. He
placed the mirror on the couch. On the couch, the mirror
reflected the room at a new angle. He opened his wall safe. It
contained Derek Styles’ diaries and notebooks, 38 pieces of work
in total. Considering how much they had meant to Derek and Rick,
father and son, Robinson hadn’t had the heart to destroy them.
He thumbed through the few files he had stashed in his wall
safe. These files had once been the official files, concerning
the incidents revolving around NO.21 Bishop Street, Richmond
suburbs. There, he had listened to the bugs planted in NO.11.
After he had burned down NO.21, Michael Riordan had bitched and
moaned about the loss of such expensive surveillance equipment.
Finally the threat of exposure of illegal activities had selfprompted Michael to revert back to the age-old reliable system
of cover up.
He eyed the open wall safe. He contemplated the last hand
he had left to play in his own/ed home. He went to his desk. He
fetched his silver revolver he had once used to play a one sided
game of Russian roulette with O’Neil and Farrell in NO.21. He
spotted what had been placed on the dusty bookshelves side by
side with his old, gold Sheriff’s badge that bore the engraved
words…
SHERIFF SILVER SPRINGS
He was stunned to see the wood field mouse-he had carved as
a kid. It had once been the centerpiece of his long since sold
woodcarvings collection. In his adult World/life years, he had
tracked down some of the buyers. At the time of the original
sale he and she would have been his neighbors. He had offered to
buy his woodcarvings back from him or her. He’d been told he
didn’t have to pay a dime. Since Roger’s murders, his neighbors
had only felt conned or just sickened when looking at the IGinspired pieces-that could and would only remind a viewer of the
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
417
IG in the self. From dusty and cobweb filled attics and dirty
garages, the owners had retrieved the woodcarvings. Most
strangely, the owners had found the woodcarvings in no time at
all. After the murders, the owners had grown to hate the
woodcarvings so much, he or she had never forgotten where he or
she had stashed them. He or she had all looked disgusted when
handing back the woodcarvings to their creator. Yet something in
him and her had stopped him and her from throwing the
woodcarvings he and she hated, but had once loved enough to
think to pay good money for, in the trash?
At that time it had been widely decided in Silver Springs
that the troublemaker George Ira Robinson was no good. As such
persecution in the form of gossip was self-justified. Though he
had played the conscious-fool, the fact that he had not reacted
to this gossip in a negative way, and so had failed to create
more evidence for the neighbors to gossip about, had caused
twice the hate/revenge-drive in all. At any rate, he had given
both his wood field mouse, and his Sheriff’s badge to his only
son little Richard. Yet now, here they both were in his head
office?
He
should
be
as
mad
as
the
State/mind
Postmescic/Embodiment-Reason-dreaming-hell he’d come out of? For
this meant the head office security had been breached. He was
paranoid enough about his head office security to have an
armored door, sound and bulletproof windows, and an alarm-near
as good self-security as had protected the underground jailhouse
back in August of 1964. Yet, as soon as he had let his guard
down, his only son little Richard must have found a way to sneak
in here behind Robinson’s back?
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
418
PART 2
(OF 4-PARTS)
‘Little Richard!’ Robinson smiled in the spacious kitchen.
He studied his little son eating his breakfast at the kitchen
table. Robinson held up the wood field mouse. It fitted snugly
on his bony palm. The alien-cancer-driven weight loss had
ensured the mouse now fitted more snugly and perfectly on his
palm, than it would have even when he had been the little naïve
kid who had carved it. In his other wasted hand, he clumsily
held his fool’s gold Sheriff’s badge.
‘Little Richard…’ he started. ‘Don’t you want Mr. Gold
anymore?’
Little Richard nodded. He was too hurt to look into his
father’s eyes. Instead, he stared at his oatmeal. He was red in
the cheeks.
‘But if you want it, why did you put it in my head office
with my Sheriff’s badge, both of which I gave to you to look
after? Don’t worry? I’m not mad with you? You can tell me?’
‘I thought you could bring them with you to help you
remember me by, and to help remind you to think about me.’
His heart sank. He felt as guilty as a murderer. ‘What
makes you think I’m doing anywhere for longer than a few days?’
‘All of last week, I saw you taking out your files to our
Station Wagon. You came back covered in dirt, stinking of smoke.
The next day you took away even more files. You’d never take
away your files unless you were going away for good,’ little
Richard said quietly.
He couldn’t bring himself to lie to his own/ed and only
flesh and blood and bone son. Instead he asked, ‘Tell me little
Richard… How did you get into my head office?’
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
419
Little Richard shrugged his shoulders. ‘Every time you want
to open your head office door, you go into the upstairs bathroom
on the second floor. After you went to bed last night, August
and I went into the bathroom. August pointed out your secret
hiding place for your keys.’
‘August pointed out the hiding place, without any bother?
She guessed rite the first time?’ He eyed August. Her physical
heart was somehow self-affected by Postmescic directed Cidean
Exudus magic.
Little Richard nodded. IT was as if he did not know that to
find such a well-concealed hiding place would require impossible
luck of some sort? Perhaps even a genuine Inora/IG/soul-inspired
miracle? He remembered little Richard had asked his father to
use the wood mouse and badge to remember him by? There was
something about this most particular World/life situation that
could one day lead to some IG-inspired revelation, or PP:FCICmade-with-IG, or Inora liberation in another? An idea began to
take shape in his mind. ‘Richard! You must never, ever, tell
anyone where my secret hiding place is! Do you promise? And you
to August?’
Little Richard nodded. This would be the last promise he
would make to his dying father. For that reason little Richard
would deem the promise the most important he had ever made. He
would keep it all the way to his own/ed premature grave.
He kneeled down on his aching knees. His gaunt body
trembled. He put his arm around little Richard’s shoulders. He
handed him the wood field mouse and the old, but still shining
Silver Springs Sheriff’s badge. It was obvious little Richard
had taken immaculate care of both items-he must have polished
often. ‘I want you to have these little Richard. So you’ll
always be able to remember just how much your father loves you.
These things are of no importance to me, in comparison to how
important you are to me. I want you to know your father was once
an innocent, and good natured little boy, just like you
presently are.’
…BECAUSE NOW I’VE GOT TO GO AND DEAL WITH A DERANGED THING
WHO ALWAYS WISHED HE’D HAD YOUR PLACE IN MY FAMILY…
AND IF YOU SHOULD EVER DARE TO LET SLIP THAT SECRET, ROBINSON
SELF-DOUBT NOT HE’LL SOON COME ONE UNSUSPECTED EARLY NIGHT
FRESHLY RETURNED FROM HIS EARTHLY GRAVE BED
TO LET SLIP ALL OF YOUR SUSPECTING FAMILY’S BLOOD
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
420
AND THEN GO TO IN THE TOO SAME EASY, SECRETIVE SILENCE
HE FIRST ARRIVED IN, IN ORDER TO SILENCE HE AND SHE
ONE AS IF ALL!
FOR HE DOES NOT LIKE WHEN HIS DEEPLY PERSONAL
AND SO COMPLICATED DREAMS
ARE REDUCED TO THAT, WORTHY ONLY TO BE GREETED WITH CONTEMPT!
SO WHEN IN GRIEF FOR YOUR PHYSICAL ABSENCE
LET YOUR WIDOW AND HER KIDS
DARE NOT TO EVER SELF-ENTERTAIN THAT NOTION
AS THE MOTIVATING CAUSE OF POSTMESCIC-ROGER’S FLAWED-UE-CLAUSE
THAT NOW ALLOWS IT SUCH FREE REIGN OVER YOU
AND ALL OF YOUR OWN/ED MEAGRE
BUT SO OBSESSIVE, AND TOO, TOO-EARTHLY WORLD/LIFE ACTIONS!
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
421
PART 3
(OF 4-PARTS)
Robinson told his family he loved them. He returned to his
head office. Once there, he fetched his silver revolver. He
ensured the revolver was loaded with his last live silver bullet
(the other silver bullet, he had fired through the wall of NO.21
Bishop street, into the tree waiting outside). He secured the
revolver in his shoulder holster. He stuffed his pockets full of
spare ammunition he was positive he wouldn’t need. Anyway, by
now he had been wearing a loaded gun on his person for so long,
he felt much lighter and very uneasy and out of step with
everyone else when he wasn’t wearing one.
He went to his great big command desk. He wrote down the
safe’s combination on a piece of paper. He glanced one last time
at the room to ensure everything was the way he wanted it to be.
After he exited the head office, he locked the solid armor
reinforced head office door after him. He dropped the head
office door key into the plastic evidence bag containing the
combination to the safe. He turned away from his locked head
office door. He saw first little Richard, and then Lisa-holding
August in her arms. All three of him and her were watching him
with a strange and eerily familiar facial expression. It made
him feel like he had just walked into the wrong house.
‘What’s going on George?’ Lisa asked quietly, yet angrily.
But then what man could act normally, when his mind was
already self-constructing images of what was to be his last
earthly World/life day self-execution scene? Who knew where his
conscious-self-tormenting-soul would be by tomorrow evening, if
that soul was allowed to continue on at all, and was not just
wiped out of spiritual existence by the Reason as yet another
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
422
self-named spiritual error that had to be removed from the Inora
reincarnation processes?
‘George… Tell me the truth now, for once. Are we going to
see you again?’ Lisa didn’t even look upset, only angry.
Little Richard ran over. He threw his small and bony arms
around his father’s waste. Little Richard did not seem to notice
the one-eyed monkey walking stick his father was also grasping.
‘Don’t go daddy? Please don’t go!’
‘Hey! Hey! Hey!’ Robinson laughed. ‘Come on now? What are
all these long faces about? In a few minutes, Styles and Tomas
are to arrive. We then are going to go to our old hometown for a
few World/life days! I’ll meet a lot of old friends and
neighbors. I’ll be back even before you realize I’ve gone!
‘You don’t think good old uncle Styles and Tomas would ever
let anything bad happen to me, that could upset you, now do you,
little Richard? Styles is your favorite uncle, little Richard,
who you would trust your very World/life to? Why not me?’
CRAZY EX-RO-ORPHANS CAPABLE OF DOING ANYTHING
IN THEIR RELENTLESS AND HALF-INSANE FIGHT
AGAINST THIS IT’S WORLD/LIFE, MORE LIKE!
He looked into Lisa’s hate filled eyes. She was slowly
shaking her head, like she always did when Robinson swore he
wouldn’t return to his old ways, and then made excuses to return
to his old World/life ways. Lisa knew his name was as good as
mud back in Silver Springs. There, he’d burnt all his bridges.
She knew this was just another act on his part. The calculating
Robinson was using the children’s presence, to ensure Lisa
couldn’t say what was really on her mind. At any rate, Lisa knew
anything she now said would not altar his course one iota.
‘It’ll be all rite,’ he said. Lisa knew these words were
being directed specifically to her. Of course she knew nothing
was going to be all rite. ‘You’ll survive without me.
Arrangements have been made,’ he whispered.
Lisa could read his lips. Little Richard with his blond
head buried into his father’s stomach, didn’t hear a word.
August, who had her head buried in her mother Lisa’s shoulder,
didn’t notice either. August had the mental age of a two or a
three year old.
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
423
‘Now remember little Richard,’ Robinson said. ‘When the
head office door is locked, that mean’s I’m working. I don’t
want to be disturbed.’
‘But you took away all the files daddy?’ Little Richard
looked up with tears in his eyes.
‘Of course I didn’t!’ He smiled down at his son. He ruffled
his hair. ‘I just self-realized which were the important files I
had to work on, and which ones I could get rid of! You all knew,
even before I did, I had too many files. Late in the night, I
woke up to bring the new files into the house, so nobody would
see me, and get worried all of my hard work was to start all
over again, as if for time without end! If you could see the
state of that head office, crammed full of all my new files-that
are going to take me the next twenty years to get through… Whew!
It’s just as well you’re not allowed in there, or you’d be
ashamed of me, after all my promises to make more family time!’
He smiled wearily. He beckoned to the locked door guarding the
near desolate and empty head office. He was near dead due to the
alien-cancer anyway. He’d enough to be self-worrying about in
concern to dealing with Roger Madican James face to face, than
now also having to worry about having to explain what he was now
out to try to do CM;1-style. Given IT had taken him over half a
decade to work out what he now just had to do CM;1-style based
on the crazy geniuses crazy Killian Schull essay homework
definitions.
‘I’ll tell you what little Richard… I’ll bet three, four
nights from now you’ll be up in bed. You’ll hear the click,
click and click of me working on my typewriter. You’ll know I’ve
come home during the night. I’m back doing what makes me the
most happy!’ he said, despite knowing the head office was just
about sound proof. Also, his work had always been a source of
absolute hellish self-scourge to him-he as such always wished to
escape.
Nonetheless, this idea seemed to somewhat calm little
Richard. Robinson felt lousy. He looked up to see the conceited
hate betrayed in Lisa’s eyes. She actually smiled cruelly. She
looked demented when considering she would be glad never to see
Robinson again. He had always refused to admit the whore of
Postmescic mortality that his wife Lisa really was. Now he did
what he always did. He directed the negative energy Lisa raised
in him, towards the concept of resolving this R.M.J.-case as
soon and as safely as was humanly possible. Suddenly he was once
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
424
again driven to go through with what he now knew he had no
choice but to go through with on behalf of all the rest of
conscious-humanity. The rest was politically correct lies and
conscious-denial.
In regard to her hate of Robinson, Lisa had spent years
consciously cultivating a major DCC-made-with-UE. When she heard
Robinson was dead, she would then only be able to consciously
take pause to think. She could only consciously deny she felt
emotional rewards that made her feel glad her husband, once the
troublemaking thorn in her side, was dead. A DCC-made-with-UE
mindlessly consciously cultivated didn’t just break over night,
even if the shock induced by the concept of another’s death
might temporarily aid that process. When he was gone her DCCmade-with-UE would simply use other external mediums to inspire
different reasons to hate in her.
He ruffled his son’s hair. He was only sorry his son little
Richard and daughter August would have to grow up in the care of
such a self-corrupted woman as Lisa. Little Richard, constantly
nagged at, as Lisa fought to control him like her own/ed UE was
out to control the course of her conscious thought patterns into
self-corruption with UE, would have to be self-corrupted at some
level.
Robinson went upstairs. He hid his evidence bag containing
the head office door key and the safe’s combination, in his
secret hiding place. He had already gathered all of his
insurance policies, bank statements, and various other legal
documents. He’d put them in a wood box he’d left on a shelf in
the white wardrobe in the master bedroom. He’d marked the box
he’d handcrafted himself…
GEORGE’S GOOD STUFF…
So Lisa would easily find it, and have no problems sorting
out how she and her young family were going to survive
financially. Any other future World/life problems Lisa and the
kids had, adopted uncle Styles and Tomas would take care of.
Of course the box did not contain good stuff. Robinson knew
if Lisa did not have enough money to feel financially secure,
her self-corruption could only be self-magnified. Then there was
a greater likelihood she would drag the kids down with her into
negative thinking.
By the time he reached the bottom of the staircase, he was
putting on a brave smile. He did not wish to face all he had
really been reduced to… a willing self-sacrifice/basic suicide
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
425
to an evil Postmescic-mind-God in the name of ultimately saving
conscious-Roger, and thus by association, humanity from ITall/itself.
‘Always remember little Richard… The field mouse! Once I
was a child, just like you are! Remember me like that!’ He
rapped his knuckles on the locked head office door. ‘Remember!
When the door is locked, don’t come a knocking! I’ll be in
there, busy working on my files! I won’t want to be disturbed!
Alive and happy, doing the work I was born to do!’ This was
another lie. In a just World/life, he should never have had to
feel self-obligated to do any sort of horrible and painful work
that had more often than not left him in a state of constant
self-scourge and self-torment, the ultimate torture victim. Why
did all of this have to fall on him? Why him? If only human
beings had done the rite thing, humanity would have landed a
rocket ship on Mars at least two thousand years ago? By this
time in history Robinson would have been born into a fair and
just human World/life operating just as the nation of the pure
Gods intended humanity to operate. Robinson would then have gone
on to live near indefinitely due to technology, while living the
perfect World/life of peace and happiness and harmony, and his
every need catered to by artificial World/life?
But this was not the intended human World/life? His
World/life then had been a pointless hellhole living nightmare
of constant pain, self-scourge and self-sacrifice. And for what,
so the Postmescic mind God could win anyway?
A comforting image flashed into his mind. He pictured the
dusty shelves in his head office void of the files that
represented his endless years of work and total self-sacrifice.
Practically every last file had since been burned. The ashes had
been raked through to ensure nothing, not even a single typed
word on a brown patch of half-burnt yellowed paper, remained
behind on this Earth for someone to read.
‘I won’t forget daddy! I won’t tell another living soul
where your secret hiding-place really is! Not even mommy!’
Little Richard blurted out without even thinking.
‘Good boy!’ Robinson hoped he was not setting little
Richard up, so as soon as little Richard heard the new news
about his father’s final end fate, little Richard started to
cultivate destructive fantasies based on negative ache and
longing and spiritual decay others called sentimentality. The
very worst part of this was that he felt he was leaving his son
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
426
little Richard and daughter August without a protector who could
always fight hard as long as he was able, to ensure he and she
had a good World/life. Of course he knew this was delusional
thinking. Hell was the end fate for all of humanity if he failed
in his part of the three piece-CM;1, CM;2, CM;3-mission May-8th1972.
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
427
PART 4
(OF 4-PARTS)
In order to avoid the reality of what World/life fate he
was really ensuring for his family, Robinson, like a mindless
meat and bone machine, deliberately went through a series of
thoughts connected with his World/life-experiences back in
August-1964. He succeeded in changing his conscious relationship
with his own/ed UE. He deadened all of his emotions. He only
knew self-conviction he had no choice but to face this dark
business all the way down to the very end. He had no rite to any
personal World/life or worries of his own/ed, considering what
he had experienced, what he knew, and what he felt chosen by the
Inora mind God to represent, all of which other men did not
have.
At the foot of the long drive leading up to his home, he
sat down on the sidewalk. He ignored the cramp acting up in his
bad leg, and the involuntary twitching of his bullet wound
scarring that always started whenever he was in the rite frame
of mind. As such the involuntary twitching of the long and
winding hideous mess of scar tissues came under the influence of
the body-of-UE-mind. The way the scar tissues was pulsating and
twitching made IT feel as if the scar tissues had a separate
World/life of its own/ed, that came to World/life in order to
reflect his state of self-haunting mind.
He glanced at his station wagon he’d loaded his final copy
of file-R.I.P./unedit into. Styles and Tomas would drop it off
at a safe World/life location, prior making the long drive back
to
Silver
Springs.
He
chuckled
in
self-frustration.
He
understood the final grand demonic joke played on him. Yet IT
was a demonic joke that was the end result of his own/ed actions
as an independently thinking conscious human being.
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
428
Last night, driving negative energy, rather than driving
inspiration, had woken him from his sleep. He had done some last
minute editing on file-R.I.P./unedit. When reading through the
pages, checking each line with pen ready in hand, the ink of the
typed words often self-stained his skin. He often ended up with
his own/ed typed words, like tattoos, printed in reverse, and
back to front, on his skin. Only now did he notice the typed
words printed on his forearm’s skin like some Nazi concentration
camp prisoner identification number. Firstly were the reversed
letters that had spelt on the file cover…
TOP SECRET
FILE–R.I.P./UNEDIT
Directly after those letters was one of the file page
numbers. Now that he was sitting down on the curb, and was
bending his arm at a different angle, compared to the angle his
arm had been at last night, he could read the number on his
forearm as…
666
It must have somehow been lifted from Page 999. 666 was the
number many deemed to be the number of the Beast, Satan.
TOP SECRET
FILE–R.I.P./UNEDIT
666
As if all he had managed to create after his World/life’s
work was the real Devil’s Bible… Such ink stains were hard to
wash out. Most likely the coroner, soon to be doing Robinson’s
autopsy, would get to read this number off his brutally murdered
corpse. Given the irreversible and predetermined World/life
situation he was presently on course for, he felt like a mocked
conscious-fool lead down the garden path to the State/mind
Postmescic/Embodiment-Reason-weaving/dreaming-hell.
Nonetheless
he simply refused to change his course one iota.
He caught sight of Styles and Tomas in their typically
dirty undercover car gone through too much wear and tear as a
direct result of they been constantly on the job, just now
turning into the respectable park. He rose to his feet. He was
fully self-prepared to meet his true maker. Whether that is the
Postmescic-mind-God-rotten-RO-heart-identity/whore of Postmescic
mortality maker, or the Inora mind God conscious life force
spirit constructor?
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
429
18
(IN 6-PARTS)
PART 1
(OF 6-PARTS)
THEY CAME TO DIG…
BUT BROUGHT NO SHOVELS TO HELP THEM TOIL AND LABOR
FOR FRUITFUL WORLD/LIFE TROUBLE!
GUESS IT MUST BE THE ACTUAL TRUTH THEY’RE AFTER… …THEN…
WHEN REAL TRUTH COMES SO EASY
TO THOSE SO HARDENED BUT SO WEARY…
Over the gas station ruins, the sky was a perfect wash of
pale blue, on that cold, but sunny, Monday morning, at 11.39AM,
May-8TH-1972 State Virginia time.
‘They never rebuilt IT,’ said Styles. He pulled the Ford
station wagon into all that remained of Harvey Jammer’s gas
station. Of the original store and garage, there was by this
May-8th-day only two stout walls and a pile of blackened rubble
left. The pumps had been reduced to pools of hard metal. The
last traces of hardened metal was barely visible, since someone
had filled in all of the ugly craters that had once selftestified the underground gas-storage tanks had blown up.
Robinson eyed the surrounding trees, and the fresh green
fields filled with thriving long blades of grass presently
swaying due to the influence of the powerful wind. It was true
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
430
that the once blackened World/life grounds surrounding the gas
station had long since recovered. World/life here then appeared
to be just as pleasant as it was anywhere else. But that did not
explain why no one was farming IT. Or building on IT. Or why
there wasn’t a single animal in sight, other than the sole
exception of the lone and exhausted black bird forced to rest up
on one of the recently erected telephone wires. Soon, the
clearly troubled blackbird would find the strength to continue
onto its real World/life destination, a long way, away from this
IT’s cursed ground. Even the bird presently way up on the
telephone wire obviously had no intention of flying any closer
to the ground, at least twenty feet below it.
Robinson opened the glove compartment. Ignoring his bulging
brown leather wallet and his FBI credentials, he removed his
glasses. He got out of the station wagon. He hadn’t been out
here since 1964. Immediately, he knew why all animal World/life
forms had avoided this World/life area. He could sense the
spiritual decay and force of self-destruction-that was the selfreflected aura exuded into this area by a clustered Postmescic
mind God force, secreted out of physical sight, but somewhere
near. Any animal would instinctively sense this, like an animal
would the most high and vile predator.
In his mind, the past scorched ground of 1964-still fought
to be seen in the 1972-present. Whatever was still here, in a
parallel dimension, was surely brooding over, and picking
through IT’s memory of IT’s past successful World/life works
here, when IT had used conscious-Roger Madican James as IT’s
medium to kill so many in the name of IT’s just cause. Now it
must appear to the Postmescic mind God that out of the vast
resources of the human World/life, circumstance had finally sent
IT three excellent self-swindling/dealing-making/damned too,
too-mortal-fool/UE-building-block-conscious-tool-humans, for the
Postmescic mind God to now both use and abuse, to ensure many
new roads to the intended future could be laid. In order to lead
IT-still-in-conscious-Roger, so far beyond IT’s imprisoning
dreams of an inactive past the Postmescic mind God could
presently only serve itself by brooding over and shifting
through, as long as Roger Madican James was dormant. The UEbuilding-block-conscious-fool/tools were of course the minds of
Robinson, Styles and Tomas, so adversely affected by alien
World/life experiences they felt powerless but to try to plot
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
431
and scheme ways to end the Postmescic mind God’s demonic reign
over nearly all, by making deals with IT-all.
Certainly, the cold morning air seemed to be blistering
with the unseen body of an arrogant and conceited Postmescicmind-God force brooding in self-satisfaction that finally IT had
three
significant
good
Players,
stupid
enough
to
offer
themselves up to play all the way to the very end of IT’s selfcreated damnation game, and even beyond that.
YOU MAY AS WELL KEEP BANGING YOUR HEADS AGAINST
A PRISON’S BRICK WALL…
FOR ALL THE HOPE YOU HAVE OF HELPING HUMANITY
WHO DOES NOT WANT TO BE HELPED
OR CHANGED FROM EVIL-PURPOSE-SERVING WAYS…
HA! HA!! HE! HE!!
He leaned heavily on the Ford station wagon door. Ignoring
the stain little Richard’s ice cream had left on the back seat,
he turned to gaze at his two adopted sons, Styles and Tomas.
They were in turn anxiously looking back at Robinson their
adopted spiritual dream father-still exuding the persona of
Derek Styles over a foundation of blackness and chaos.
‘Where’s your one-eyed monkey cane anyway?’ Styles asked.
He had noted the difficulty with which Robinson had been in when
trying to maneuver his lanky bony body out of the station wagon.
Up back of the station wagon, the flamethrower was displayed
through the long rear windows that looked like the windows in a
hearse displaying a casket. It was the biggest Ford station
wagon available.
‘Little Richard was afraid I was leaving for good. I didn’t
have the heart not to reassure him. I told him I wasn’t going
far. By the time I got back, I wouldn’t need a walking stick
anymore.’
‘You say Roger’s definitely here, somewhere?’ Tomas looked
around curiously at the vast and open space. It was only divided
by the new trees, and the old trees-that hadn’t burned up back
in 1964. ‘You know, even the army experts that plant mines can
never dig all of the mines back up after the War is over? Where
then are we going to begin to dig for Roger? We don’t even have
shovels?’
‘You believe in me?’ Robinson made sure to direct his
question to both men.
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
432
‘Of course!’ said Styles without hesitating for a frantic
heartbeat.
‘Then we won’t have to start digging! There is another way!
A way that will prove everything I have ever said to you two is
the actual truth! You believe in me as an adopted spiritual
dream father? But am I rite to believe enough in you, to do all
of this to myself CM;1-style, and then to leave everything in
your hands?’
Styles nodded his head.
‘Like I said Styles… I need to know I am rite?’ Robinson
put his hand close to his leg to remind Styles why Robinson had
no walking stick, and as such all Robinson was giving up so he
could do this most terrible CM;1-business of his responsibility
alone.
‘You’re rite,’ Styles said. ‘As soon as I noticed you
weren’t bringing any shovels, I compassed what you are out to
try and do through the means of conscious decoding. Yet IT will
only work if a true CM;1-is at the heart of IT-all.
‘August-9TH–1964 your conscious-mind formed a deep and close
spiritual/psychic personal connection to Roger’s conscious-mind
down in that under/ground jailhouse. IT was linked due to the
Vexation framework. It was when the Postmescic mind God tried to
break you down into spiritual dreaming death, and turn you into
a soulless killer, so you might aid Roger’s escape from lawful
custody. Instead, you thought of the relationship between murder
and suicide. You then used conscious decoding to work your way
back out of the paradox snare IT had sprung on you… And so once
it was obvious you weren’t going to aid Roger’s physical escape,
Roger had no option then, but to work to tug out the barred-A2cell-window from the wall.
‘By the time Roger did, he was so no longer calm in his
evil. Roger was so enraged and self-tormented by being halfconsciously liberated from IT due to the conscious decoding
black Postmescic arts magic trick you did in your own/ed minddirectly linked to his, he went on a killing spree… In order to
try and send what you woke of his independent sense of conscious
self back into spiritual dreaming death.
‘You also used your memory of Roger being physically selfresurrected down in the A-3-holding-cell, to control and somehow
repress back into dormancy, your alien-cancer when IT got too
bad. Only now you’ll try to remember, and reenact these various
states of mind. You’ll also use conscious decoding with a true
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
433
CM;1-intention at the central-heart-core of IT-all, to selfresurrect conscious-Roger out of his state of spiritual dreaming
death and mortal death, and back into enough spiritual pain and
mortal-World/life… to be driven by internal conflict with the
force of anti-consciousness… to break out of the ground wherever
he is presently lying buried here in his unmarked and unhallowed
grave.
Black-Postmescic-arts-prediction/black-Postmescic-artsmagic-style rite? Then when Roger is half awake spiritually, you
pull down CM;1-a basic suicide, a self-sacrifice to the
Postmescic mind God, so conscious-Roger might become self-aware
of the true conscious humanity in the self… if not you becoming…
an actual… self-named Human Reason Victim to IT-all…’
He felt relieved Post/man-Styles was the man Robinson had
always hoped him to be. He nodded his head. He regarded the two
young men. They wore similar immaculate suits. They looked like
recruiters for a small and largely unknown cult Religion. The
most noticeable World/life difference was that Styles and Tomas
were armed with loaded and lethal weapons presently secured in
shoulder holsters. Unlike during previous undercover work,
Styles and Tomas were presently clean-shaven. Their hair was cut
short and neat. They wore gray pants, white shirts, blue ties
and dark navy blazers. Now they both looked the part of true
salesmen.
The fact that Styles and Tomas were wearing identical handtailored and expensive suits suggested it was not about each man
working for his own/ed self, but about the two of them working
jointly for something that was bigger than they were. It was
obvious just by the way the two young men were staring at
Robinson, that whatever they sensed to be Robinson’s true
conscious character, seemed to correspond with the pure traits
in their own/ed conscious minds and souls. This was not so
surprising. Robinson had, had a major World/life hand in
cultivating, and helping to remind them of, and teaching them
how to strengthen those good conscious philosophies. While now
Robinson was going to do for real, the ultimate CM;1-act-that
proved beyond doubt he was no conman or phony. This was yet
another reason they had no bodyguards with them here this most
particular
soul-testing
day.
This
May-8th-1972-day,
they
intended to truly test themselves and their beliefs, against IT.
They would do so despite having no protection, and as such no
way to back out once IT all really and truly began for them.
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
434
‘Let’s try around back,’ said Robinson. ‘But stay alert! I
have an idea what I am looking for, and what to expect! But
there’s never any real accounting for the Postmescic mind God,
or conscious-Roger either, now is there?’ he finished. He
thought of Roger buried somewhere in these fields, just waiting
to be woken from his dormant state before his preordained time.
And woken by Robinson, soon to become the dead fly CM;1-style,
landed rite in the middle of the Postmescic-mind-God/man’s
ointment, as Robinson laid a conscious-human constructed paradox
snare of his own/ed, and before his daughter August’s fated
death, and on May-8TH to, the exact anniversary of Roger’s mortal
birth as a fully formed and living human baby. Such a
significant May-8th date in Roger’s mortal World/life rite, and
more
importantly
in
Roger’s
own/ed
conscious
mind,
was
associated with everything that had ever gone truly awry with
conscious-Roger.
Despite Roger’s various attempts at conscious-denial in the
name of Roger trying to do only conscious good, Robinson knew
Roger would have to be very conscious of the May-8TH date. IT was
well known among the ex-RO-orphans that each year on May-8th, the
Saint used to call Roger down to the dead house. Once there, she
would inform him he was another World/life year older. This
would have been during a time when Roger had surely felt, and
had greatly feared, he was yet another year closer to spiritual
death, murder, disembodiment and all out bloody State/mind
Postmescic/Embodiment-Reason-weaving/dreaming-hell,
now
all
about to be reenacted yet again.
Equally,
the
May-8th-date
had
to
have
great
selfsignificance to Roger even at an unconscious level. After all,
Charley Burn, the old RO-care/taker, just hours prior his own/ed
mortal death May of 1961, had asked the sleeping Roger-fresh and
recovering
after
the
D-Block,-’61
self-slaughterhouse,
to
remember him come the final May-8th-day?
For the first time in years traveling without their
bodyguards, Styles and Tomas followed Robinson around to the
rear of the gas station.
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
435
PART 2
(OF 6-PARTS)
The Postmescic mind God’s ghostly self-interpretation of
Roger’s mortal-human-body, and also carrying his independentconscious-mind,
had
long
since
been
withdrawn
from
the
State/mind Postmescic/Embodiment. IT had returned to his corpse
lying in its unhallowed and self-dug grave pit. By way of the
Reason, and the forged Reason tissue in the corpse acting like
pin-markers, the spiritual interpretation of the bones and skull
had exactly realigned with the real bones and skull. Once
aligned with his corpse, Postmescic-Roger waited in a dormant
state. There was no sense of World/life time or place, and there
would not be until the correct sequence of World/life
event/circumstances
was
realized
above
ground,
and
all
World/life event/circumstances were ready to bend to create the
Postmescic mind God’s will up on Earth, just rite. As soon as a
few minor World/life situations were created that would lead
onto major chain reactions. IT was at this intended time the
Reason would jolt the spark of World/life back into Roger-the
corpse. The Reason was like the central core force created under
pressure, where all of evil human history had coincided in the
Postmescic-mind-God. The Reason then was rooted into that which
could detect every last present day evil action under/taken by
any human alive in IT’s made-mortal-World/life today.
Within the dark, there was an image of pale gray and dusty
white light streaming in through a crude whole. He was trapped
back in the past. He was never able to move on, constantly
reenacting as if for time without end his final earthly August9th-1964-day above ground. Roger becoming conscious of good
characteristics in his own/ed conscious self, generated conflict
with the force of anti-conscious evil. Conscious self-awareness
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
436
ensured he became somewhat unhinged from the driving Postmescicmind-God that had but one message and desire, and that was to
destroy all conscious life and take away the intended future, so
the Postmescic alone might then have IT all forever more. The
Postmescic mind God did not want to let go of IT’s firm grip on
conscious-Roger. This stirred great pain and rage in consciousRoger. He would know only elation in killing and destroying all!
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
437
PART 3
(OF 6-PARTS)
Above ground, Robinson was exploiting his knowledge that
the Postmescic mind God, as the irreversible sum of IT’s
beliefs, was an arrogant force incapable of entertaining selfdoubt. Any time IT made an error, and IT’s black-Postmescicarts-predictions for the future failed to become the intended
reality, IT simply altered IT’s version of the steps that had
lead to IT’s own/ed self-resurrecting history.
Back in August-9TH–1964, the Postmescic mind God had been
self-convinced down in the underground jailhouse IT could turn
Robinson into a UE-human pawn killer. Robinson then would aid
Roger’s unlawful escape from human custody. IT had failed to do
so. Now, May-8TH-1972, IT had only one insane option left open to
IT. To decide IT had plotted, even as far back as August-9th1964, IT would require Robinson as a conscious-fool/UE-toolpawn, to come here this May-8th-1972-day, to ensure the creation
of World/life event/circumstances that would ultimately lead
onto IT’s ultimate universal victory. IT then had to face
Robinson, and had to bow to allowing Robinson to attempt to
succeed in his plan to affect conscious-Roger in a positive way
CM;1-style.
This CM;1-meant getting Roger’s conscious soul pattern to
reenact the essential ethos and spirit of a memory of Robinson
saying he believed in the good in conscious-Roger and in his
authentic humanity, and was willing to self-sacrifice himself to
IT/hell to prove this belief. Only after Robinson finished here
this IT’s May-8th-1972-day, could the Postmescic mind God try to
combat Robinson’s conscious logic and knowledge of the blackPostmescic-arts. IT would then try to ensure any CM;1-styledgood-work Robinson now did for conscious-Roger, ultimately lead
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
438
onto even greater evil and disaster than Robinson could ever
have hoped to account for through his file-R.I.P./unedit.
If Robinson had formed a state of mind in the past where he
had effected conscious-Roger’s options and choices, then
Robinson could reform that too-same state of mind again in the
present. Robinson knew how to do so. He must have rewritten his
autobiography over a hundred times, and certain small sections
of that autobiography over a thousand times.
The Postmescic mind God might be a vast universal force.
Yet even IT could not change the present design of UE, or the
design of the Vexation framework lending itself to the support
of the body of Postmescic mind God IT was dependant upon, if IT
was to constantly evolve towards that desired end victory. That
was the very same planned victory that had meant Robinson had
felt he’d had no other sane World/life option but to come here
today.
The fact was the Postmescic mind God was even more limited
by IT’s own/ed evil spiritual laws than any conscious human was.
For a flexible conscious human, damnation was always an option.
IG, the soul and the Inora reincarnation process were another
option
entirely.
Yet
the
Postmescic
mind
God
had
no
comprehension of any good conscious logic. As the sum of IT’s
beliefs IT didn’t know the difference between fact and fiction.
As such, it should be possible for a unique and flexible
conscious mind to both manipulate and control IT-all.
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
439
PART 4
(OF 6-PARTS)
Under ground, images flashed into Roger’s self-haunted
ghost. Roger was uprooting the A2-holding-cell-window. The
daylight was streaming in and filling him with the sensation the
sunlight was turning his agonizing thoughts into searing flames.
Then an image flashed of the wounded George Ira Robinson sitting
outside, with his back to the jailhouse wall-splattered with his
own/ed so very human blood.
…ALL OF IT FAILED TO SELF-CORRUPT ME… WHAT EXCUSE DO YOU
HAVE NOW, TO ALLOW IT TO CONTINUE TO SELF-CORRUPT YOU CONSCIOUSROGER, THE AUTHENTIC HUMAN BEING SIMPLY HOODWINKED BY IT-ALL?
Roger imagined the weight of the A2-cell-window. IT was so
heavy he feared his arms would crack at the shoulders and break
off and then fall to the holding-cell-floor. The sunlight
streamed in illuminating him. He saw his finger broken. Then he
was aware of the pain in his finger. The sunlight completely
illuminated him. Suddenly he understood the pain was the pain of
his human body compressed under compacted earth. He couldn’t
breathe. The great weight was the weight of his clinging and
flawed so very human meat. There was no sunlight down here with
him in the damp. There was only the cold, the maggots, the
worms, the stones, the tree roots and the chilly dark.
The Postmescic mind God anticipated that conscious Roger
was going to know enough self-torment to repel himself back to
mortal World/life, one way or another, and so IT was forced back
to work. Though he was not mortally/physically alive yet, Roger
imagined he could not breathe because already the Reason was at
works trying to self-convey the message he was already
mortally/physically alive. These confusing sensations were a
direct result of the Reason in the process of working on the
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
440
dead human brain’s scarred landscape, that now required to be
redesigned so that authentic brain tissue could immediately
accept and incorporate memory of the new alien experiences Roger
had, had while lying dead and buried under ground for nearly
eight years. Also it had to accept and incorporate the spiritual
knowledge conscious-Roger had cultivated in reaction to these
truly new and alien experiences. It had to do so, as soon as
that human brain was self-jolted back into active World/life for
the first time since August-9th-1964. In doing so, the human
brain could accept the higher spiritual Postmescic knowledge
that ghost Roger was exuding like an aura, as a natural and
understood process. Then, when Roger remembered IT he would not
be left confused and frustrated by his inability to simply
understand what truly alien experiences he had gone through over
the previous years.
An image of Roger pulling the A2-cell-window out of the
wall, clashed with the image of Robinson standing above ground
in the daylight. The coinciding images were enough. Roger
groaned. His corpse jolted as if struck by an all-invading
bright and searing lightening bolt that had cut straight down
through the dark earth to slam unmercifully into him. He
screamed
internally
to
have
his
mortal
World/life
so
unexpectedly thrust back into him against his will. Yet the
paradox was that as soon as he lived, he felt the death-drive to
continue to survive and to do whatever he had to, no matter how
self-serving and selfish, to ensure he did live on.
The earth compacted around his face ensured he could not
even open and close an eyelid. This served to somehow reflect
how he’d felt his whole human World/life about simply
everything, and so his self-frustration doubled. When he
remembered he had been the one to bury himself alive in the
field, his frustration tripled.
NOW ROBINSON IS THINKING HE DOES NOT BELIEVE CONSCIOUS-ROGER
IS THE POSTMESCIC MIND GOD/MAN
BUT IS MERELY A CONFUSED CONSCIOUS-KID UNFORTUNATE ENOUGH
TO HAVE BEING POSSESSED BY
AND HOODWINKED BY THE POSTMESCIC MIND GOD
INTO THE BELIEF HE IS SOMETHING HE MOST CERTAINLY IS NOT!
Again rage surged into conscious-Roger. Confusing images
flashed through his mind of how RO-Culture responding to the UE-
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
441
hate/revenge drive alone tried to destroy all conscious life and
take away everyone’s future and celebrate evil and failure
alone, and so, in effect, had self-convinced conscious-Roger he
was not good, but the Postmescic mind God who must take away the
human World/life’s future, destroy all life, and replace all
with hell, if he was to feel he had any value? This twisted ugly
logic was somehow twisted around, where now Robinson was trying
to exude the opposing message. Robinson thought of Roger as a
good and wise conscious being with a bright future in the next
World/life, somehow twisted ugly during inconceivable and truly
alien and supernatural and traumatic and soul-testing World/life
event/circumstances normal people did not have to deal with in
this World/life. In response, Roger’s only desire was to kill
Robinson stone dead. Pete Davie had once written…
MOST CERTAINLY ARE NOT…
The agitated Roger was already trying to trash back in
self-frustration against the compacted earth that entombed him.
IT ensured he did not have even one single inch of space to move
any part of his body against. With no way to push, he hurt
internally. His muscles twitched. His ligaments strained. He
gritted his teeth. He began to groan. The Postmescic mind God
that did not ever admit defeat went about the business of
reinventing
IT’s
prior
plans
for
Roger’s
forged
mortal
World/life rite history, to correspond with this unforeseen
development. Near instantly, the Postmescic mind God believed
this was the intended outcome IT had always counted upon, coming
to be. IT was already self-calculating how all roads to the
intended future were to be laid, from this major World/lifeevent/circumstance juncture-point in mortal Roger’s self-forged
existence. So ultimately, IT could look back in defiance that
the
entire
history
of
the
damned-fool/UE-building-blockconscious-tool-humans had never once faltered from the pre-set
history IT had once set down in the very beginning. As such all
humans had deserved self-destruction and the spiritual future
taken away from him and her.
IF I CAN WAKE YOUR CONSCIOUS LIFE FORCE SPIRIT OUT OF IT’S
SPIRITUAL DREAMING DEATH DREAMS… AND RAISE YOU OUT OF YOUR
MAKESHIFT UNHALLOWED GRAVE PIT IN THE GROUND… DESPITE IT’S WILL
NOT TO LET YOU GO OUT ABOUT THE EARTH AGAIN FOR QUIET SOME TIME
YET… THEN ONE FUTURE DAY I CAN RAISE YOU INTO THE INORA MIND
GOD, FREE OF IT, ROGER!
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
442
But conscious-Roger knew the Postmescic mind God had not
anticipated this most particular waking reality World/life day.
The division between his conscious mind and IT was selfmagnified. He suddenly understood he really had been just a
damned, too, too mortal-fool/Postmescic-conscious-tool played
for a conscious-fool by IT-all.
Robinson was out there… calling… calling… ceaselessly
calling out to conscious-Roger, in that most effortless way of
his, to return… to return above ground, to the Earth… and to
Robinson who believed in the good and authentic humanity in
conscious-Roger and his future as a spiritual being who as such
could evolve into an increasingly purer and wiser and happier
being void of UE/Reason/Postmescic… for Robinson was the man who
had proven beyond all doubt he did not bow down before IT, or
turn his back on IT, or pretend evil was something other than
mindless and pathetic evil. Robinson stood for pure Inora mind
God/IG-reinforced/soul governed World/life… Thus he stood for
all that was actual truth, not lies and misdirection!
Reflecting his will to be one with his mortal body, so he
could leave the spiritual World/life and take revenge on the
still-living humans yet again, Roger’s so very human body jolted
violently. The series of violent jolts required to return mortal
World/life to his corpse, ensured the cold spiritual Postmescic
universal blueprint tomb, out to protect IT’s most-valued mortal
World/life property at any and all costs, disturbed the earth,
rocks, stones and mummified tree roots that surrounded him in
the once compact earth beneath the grassy field’s level surface.
The ground was been so violently disturbed that the grassy
ground far above Roger’s head, abruptly swelled like a pregnant
woman’s abdomen. IT was as if IT was just bursting to relieve
itself of the dead and cursed corpse-weight, to the extent there
was an actual earth tremor that self-fractured the grassy ground
above. This earth tremor was powerful enough to cause Robinson
to stumble on his bad leg. Robinson did not look so calm and
good and smug in the gleaming sunlight. Instead, Robinson looked
as if he feared IT was ready to lend IT’s force to an actual
eruption that would take out the entire old tyrannical bitch
Virginia State.
YOU KNOW NOT THE FORCES, WHOSE UNIVERSAL SO VERY WORLDLY WORKS
YOU DARE NOW TO TAMPER WITH, AND MEDDLE AROUND IN, ROBINSON!
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
443
PART 5
(OF 6-PARTS)
He was rendered dizzy and sick in his mental self-torment
and confusion. Roger Madican James climbed onto the level
ground. He chose to gaze down at the chunks of raw earth held
together by thick clusters of thriving grass-that he had selfdisturbed when he had made his exit from the unhallowed grave
pit. The field was still concealed from the road by a single
line of trees. These trees though were much younger and smaller
than the trees that had stood here on the August 1964-day he had
buried himself alive. His vague memories of how he had left this
World/life area so devastated, did not match up with the healed
and thriving World/life area he now saw. It made him angry that
the defiant blow he had delivered against the World/life-had
turned out to self-signify so little once given enough time.
He coughed up and snorted earth from his nostrils. He
cleared his eyes and ears. He breathed the morning’s icy air
heavily. His breathing lungs were hungry for oxygen. His eyes
felt salty in the crisp World/life air. Every bone in his so
very human body throbbed with physical agonies. His so very
physical human bones weighed him down to the Earth as if
milestones he was lugging around with him. His flesh clung to
him like stinking dead meat. He pealed off the old shirt he had
once stolen from Robinson’s clothesline. Earth and stones
showered the grass. An image flashed of the devastated Cidean
desert as if a visual representation of his destroyed soul. This
made him feel a bit better.
But then he had to look all around him at the cursed
physical World/life-thriving with all forms of life he was even
still restricted to. The atmosphere that had ultimately turned
the primeval planet into the human World/life continued to
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
444
dictate to Roger’s human lungs even now. He gazed down at the
charred plank of wood that had fallen in on top of him the
August 1964-day he’d lain down amidst the smoke and the flames.
The plank, as charred as it was, must have helped him push his
way back out of his makeshift grave. He had no memory of the
compacted earth self-fracturing, and shuddering, until lose and
stone filled soil. He was as shocked as anyone could be to find
himself back on the present day Earth. Once again, he was as
restricted by its physical laws of time and space and matter as
ever before. Yet he had just come from a place where he had been
filled with the self-sensation he had existed longer than the
universe had existed, and would continue to exist long after
this particular universe ceased to exist?
He frowned. He had noted the single, bullet-dented manacle
secured to his painful rite ankle. Back in August 1964, Philip
Crowley had secured that manacle to Roger’s ankle. Crowley had
secured the adjoining manacle to the A-3-holding-cell bars, just
moments before Roger had shot dead the head of the State police.
Nothing much had changed.
What date was it? What month? What year?
The manacle was covered in earth. Where the manacle metal
was visible through the earth, he could see it had rusted into a
dirty yellowish brown. He felt detached from his clumsy human
body. Yet its continued existence self-tormented him. He knew he
could not rid himself of it. He looked at the rusty gun he had
taken from some cop he had murdered, and whose corpse he had
burned. The gun lay on the grass where Roger must have pushed it
during
his
blind
panicked
departure
from
his
makeshift
unhallowed grave. He self-doubted the gun would work? Not after
so many waking reality World/life years beneath the ground
clutched in his corpse’s death-grip, just like the mummified
tree roots had gripped his body like the long and slender
fingers of a bony hand?
He made the connection between the two images. He sensed
his human brain struggling hard to let him come to terms with
the actuality of what he had managed to accomplish. He had selfresurrected himself from a grave after countless years of
confinement… The Postmescic mind God nightmare had receded
somewhat, freeing his independent conscious identity. Yet IT
made him still feel self-polluted by Postmescic black-arts-magic
residue vileness and too, too-mortal filth. He couldn’t even
accurately remember what he had done in World/life, prior to he
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
445
thinking to bury his own/ed so very human body alive. Even
still, there was an instinctive fear of the UE-governed
Postmescic-mind-God-nightmare that could so easily return to
self-haunt him. He felt like a caveman prior to the invention of
language. Unconscious intellects and the soul used coinciding
imagery, and associations linked between imagery and memories of
repetitive
World/life
experiences,
to
begin
through
visualization techniques, to self-train the primitive man how to
think and adapt to his World/life. Then an image flashed of Pete
Davie demeaning Roger’s artwork as meaningless comic book
nonsense. Conscious Roger was so sickened by a surge of evil he
blacked out momentarily.
He could barely even remember waking up surrounded by the
earth and panicking. Before he had realized what he had been
doing, he had been tearing himself out of the ground for air to
soothe the mortal pain. He was left despairing. He knew he had
made a drastic mistake. Yet he wasn’t sure what or who he was.
His mind was full of vague and illusive daydreams. He could not
cultivate them into firmer memories. Every so often a thought, a
picture, a word would surface from the past or the future, a
spiritually dead UE-part of him was still dreaming of and
contemplating in reaction to incoming and outgoing information.
The deadening pain obviously represented the Reason still active
and not yet dormant in him. Yet the Reason’s desire for revenge
on the living was somehow divorced from his conscious self. IT
was then more like a self-haunting ghost’s distant echoing rage
being exuded from the other side of the mortal grave. It was as
if a Reason rage had started to die, as soon as conscious-Roger
had started to return to mortal World/life.
He was shocked by an abrupt electric charge that caused his
left shoulder to jerk involuntarily. The Reason began to retreat
back into a dormant state within his authentic human cells. The
work of self-preserving the corpse for nearly eight years had
finally been completed. The deadening numbness began to dissolve
like ice melting next to a fireplace. He could feel the
World/life returning throughout his whole body. He readjusted
and fully realigned his conscious self with his body/physical
brain/mortal meat matter. He seemingly came to terms with the
World/life he was now back in, after such a long physical
absence. He felt he was instinctively imitating the Postmescic
mind God in the process of self-resurrecting IT’s own/ed
identity out of evil human history, by using negative World/life
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
446
event/circumstances, chance, dumb luck and opportunity to
connect a UE with a conscious mind DCC-building-block-made-withUE-style.
Just like synchronism that lead to the birth of whole new
planets from the debris of exploded star rubble, his unconscious
picked up on the thoughts and concepts that were flying all
around him in the spiritual dimension that was directly linked
with the physical World/life, through the medium of the human
unconscious. Due to his UE reacting to external stimuli, this
lead to the formation of brand new thoughts in his mind.
‘Roger Madican James-human?’ He wasn’t sure of the words
meaning? Or of the correct pronunciation? An image flashed into
his mind of a younger version of himself with a shovel. This
younger man was digging a makeshift grave next to a rusty old
red truck hood. He looked down. He saw that yes, there was
indeed a rusted old red truck hood in his disturbed grave pit.
He also looked down at his so heavy and so very filthy frame. He
should have grown older as he had dreamed beneath the earth? He
still looked exactly like his nineteen year old self? Had
World/life years passed him by at all?
He felt angry. Was it to turn out he had been played for a
conscious-fool-tool by his unconscious mind yet again, putting
on some back stage joke house horror show he’d merely been
tricked into thinking was in some way indicative of reality?
ROGER MADICAN JAMES IS ALWAYS WRONG
NO MATTER WHART HE THINKS, SAYS OR DOES…
SO SAYS RO-CULTURE…
He wished only to sleep away the waking reality World/life
years, until finally his end fate was decided. He wished to
avoid IT all. ‘Old… Ancient,’ he said sluggishly. He was filled
with dread for his future. He only knew whatever IT was,
whatever he had to go out and now do, and simply do again, and
yet again as if for time without end upon the human Earth, would
be a truly bloody and alien nightmare. IT would be far worse and
so very much more bizarre than anything he had so far
experienced. All that had justly gone before, would pale in
comparison to, and fail to be any sort of accurate gauge to the
true staggering force and calamity of what would so very soon
come for all participants of this, his damnation game.
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
447
A black bird flew off a telephone wire. The bird flew over
his head. The bird then understood the bird was too tired to fly
on. It landed again on one of the telephone poles erected while
Roger had been buried underground. An image arose. Suddenly he
was unexpectedly hoping the bird would step onto the black
wires. Then it could somehow manage to electrocute itself,
though the wires were designed to allow a bird to safely land.
Only then did he sense that he was not alone. All of this
waking reality World/life time he had merely had his back to
someone watching him, even as that someone had crept across the
opposing green field towards him.
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
448
PART 6
(OF 6-PARTS)
He turned. He saw three men wearing grand business suits.
These three men were intensely studying Roger. They were
attentive to Roger’s every spoken word, even as Roger spoke and
muttered, and didn’t really believe anyone would listen to what
he had to say. Rather, he expected people to refuse to
acknowledge he had said anything and would instead then simply
attack and abuse and belittle him.
Two of the younger men were obviously scared. They had to
be if they had revolvers’ aimed at him. Revolvers’ just like the
ones Roger had used to kill the lawmen back in the summer of
1964?
Standing in between these two young men, was an old and
gaunt man. Wispy gray hair fell from his near bald and bony
head. Roger did not recognize the old man. The old man was
perhaps seventy or eighty. He looked completely at odds with his
expensive suit and overcoat that would surely still be in fine
condition by the owner’s natural death from old age. This old
man had, had to be helped-as he had limped from his Ford station
wagon into this field. He obviously knew he would not have to be
helped back to his car.
‘Roger,’ the old man said. His voice was hauntingly
familiar. One of the younger men… the eerily familiar blond man…
had to lend a supporting hand for the old man to lean upon, just
to ensure the old man could remain standing erect. This most
particular young blond man was staring at Roger’s left shoulder,
as if something weird was happening to IT?
Roger remembered how his left shoulder had jerked when he’d
felt an electric charge run through IT. Why his left shoulder
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
449
and not his rite? What side of his brain was shutting down or
coming awake, and what for?
‘IT’s me Roger,’ the old man rasped. Due to fear, his
throat was very dry. ‘George Ira Robinson. Sheriff out of Silver
Springs… The summer of 1959… You, I, and my wife Lisa…’
Roger frowned. He looked all around him. Then he focused on
the old man again. ‘What year is it?’
‘May-8TH … 1972.’
‘But… When was IT? Born 1932, that would make you at most,
forty years old?’
‘The Reason, Roger… There are victims even you never
accounted for… Summer of 1959… I got too close to you. The
Reason was then just slumbering in dormancy inside of you, and
waiting for World/life event/circumstances to be just rite
before IT arose… self-resurrected… to self-resurrect you!’
Robinson said. He then said no more. He had decided that was
enough explanation. He could not be sure of much more than this.
‘You expect me to heal you? Or is just blaming me, enough
for you?’ Roger glared at the two revolvers’ the younger men
held. ‘True to my whore mother Theresa’s true nature, I am by
this May-8th-1972-day Postmescic Mother Nature incarnate, yes?’
‘No, no! You’ve got IT all so very wrong conscious-Roger,’
Robinson whispered hoarsely. He raised his hand. He indicated to
the two younger men to lower their side arms. As if
preprogrammed to be loyal and obedient as machines, the younger
men immediately complied. ‘We don’t blame you for IT-all… How
can we? IT is as old as humanity is? We believe IT should be
blamed for hoodwinking you, the independent conscious life force
spirit!’
Without his gun to distract and to make him look stupid and
all twisted ugly out of his real character, Roger finally
recognized Rick Derek Styles was the full-grown man standing to
Robinson’s left. Roger’s heart ached with longing. Styles was an
exceptionally good-looking man. Styles had been a short and
skinny kid. He had since grown to be close to five foot eight or
even nine. No one back over even still operational RO-woe would
have anticipated this. Yet, this most particular Styles now
looked so old in comparison to how Roger remembered him as if
only from yesterday? Roger’s memory of Styles simply did not add
up to this man… And yet if anything, Styles had only grown more
achingly beautiful since then, somehow making obsolete, and of
no relevance any longer, Roger’s memories of the earlier
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
450
World/life version of Styles? Roger’s heart tightened in his
chest. He directed his vision to Stephen Tomas. Tomas looked
twice as big and stern and old as Roger remembered him to
naturally be. By this day GORILLA was a very accurate ROnickname for the curly, black haired man.
Somehow, the three men had become in some way more real, as
if the older they became then the more self-aware of their true
selves, and the true purpose they had been born to achieve down
here upon this IT’s made/self-spun-Earth, they became?
‘You guys seem to have done pretty well for yourselves…
Given you are wearing those fine fancy suits… Hand-stitched are
they?’ Roger’s voice said, what he had not even thought as a
conscious being to say. Out of the blue, unexpected anger arose
into conscious-him. ‘Lovers you two guys, is that the final
truth of the story?’
‘No Roger! No! You’ve got IT all so very wrong, yet again,’
rasped Robinson. Roger could tell that his lungs had begun to
fill up with fluids. ‘None of this is about anything like that…
IT’s been hard… Don’t you see yet? Those RO-orphans World/life
social patterns, randomly thriving DCC-made-with-UE in the
World/life event wild, they left your conscious mind in shit. As
such you can only use evil UE traits and UE-risen shallow end
true-independent-conscious-self-misleading
byproduct
of
UErisen-delusions such as lust, to define others. We are
independent conscious men…’
Roger did begin to see. He had not been forgotten and
simply dismissed as an outgrowth of back stage joke house trash.
At least not by these here three men, the only ones who had
dared to show up here this May-8th-1972-morning…
Styles and Robinson were here together? The two people
Roger had most cared about during his formative years, PP:FCICmade-with-IG-style? And Stephen Tomas to… The guy who’d…
Of course! Tomas had been the one to walk in on Roger’s
corpse, when it’d been levitating dead down in D-Block, after
Roger had committed suicide…
How then had they all three-parts come to be together like
this? Like… An adopted spiritual dream father with his two
adopted orphaned dream sons… Yet, despite all they knew, and
despite how all other RO-Culture people had reacted to his or
her knowledge of Roger’s existence and ideas, these three guys
had shown up risking their very mortal World/lives and truly
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
451
immortal souls to wake Roger prematurely from his grave bed, as
if… what, exactly? They cared?
No! More likely, Postmescic-mind-God directed World/life
event/circumstances had forced them against their will and
desire not to care, to care, the indifferent bastards! Now, they
had some plan they wished to see to a conclusion, in order to
benefit them alone, not conscious-Roger?
‘Here IT is again,’ Roger slowly shook his head. ‘How
pathetic. Yet again, still, still… Even now, after all of these
so many World/life years, the endless persecution.’ He vaguely
remembered where he had come back from. Something stirred in his
unconscious. He had tried to bury himself… Now that he saw these
selfish bastards hadn’t been able to forget him, and had spent
the last few World/life years conspiring against PostmescicRoger… and probably getting rich by using him and his Killian
Schull essay homework as both their motivation and means to
achieve great ambitions and so worldly wealth… and also to form
great and long lasting friendships and constantly reinforced
emotional bonds with each other… while Roger rotted in isolation
in the cold ground… Roger decided he’d been a stupid kid! Too
stupid to know he simply should have killed all such selfserving opportunist hypocrites as soon as he chanced upon them!
Yet again he found IT hard to compass what he was. He tried
to self-learn how to define himself, by what he picked up being
exuded from others, and their view of, and reaction to meeting
him in the flesh, after so many World/life years of they trying
to work out the real mysterious truth to, and behind Roger
Madican James, the burnt whore’s, so lowly, white trash, bum
son. The anger began to dwindle again.
‘Do I still know you? You guys still the same? Even after
all of these World/life years?’ Roger asked Robinson. ‘What do
you want from me? You guys… All three of you! You’re all damned
strangers to me now. Nothing but ghosts of an age I no longer
have a personal connection with. By now the World/life has moved
on you know? My crimes all but forgotten by the masses?’
It was strange to feel he was an ancient, in the face of
those who looked his elders, but were so young and ignorant.
They were so like mere self-haunting ghosts from a past all but
forgotten, but which they were refusing to let go of, despite
the fact their physical selves had greatly changed and aged, and
they had to be the only three men left alive in IT’s World/life
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
452
today, with accurate memories of what that past had truly
represented for the unlucky few?
‘Who do you clowns think you are? Get over IT! Move on! I
don’t care to hear your sob stories, self-indulgent jackasses!
Cathartic crap! What? You think I’m to suffer for your issues?’
Roger grinned. He was suddenly ready now to kill again. The so
human World/life had chosen IT’s RO-Culture logic well. Now the
so human World/life was to all die for IT. These sub human,
self-serving, self-interested animals would be the first to go
for good!
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
453
19
(IN 5-PARTS)
PART 1
(OF 5-PARTS)
BUT INSTEAD NOW OF COURSE
AS MUST NEAR-ETERNALLY COME TO PASS
AS IF FOR TIME WITHOUT END
BUT WITH A FINAL END EACH TIME
THROUGH OWN/ED MORTAL-WORLD/LIFE’S
OWN/ED SELF-SCRIPTED DEATH-ORDER
MOST TIRESEOME, MOST-GREVIOUS AND MOST PLODDING AND REPETITIVE
BUT SO, SO GRAND MORTAL-WORLDLY SHOW…
AS YET ANOTHER INNOCENT-MAN LEADS HIMSELF TO THE EXECUTIONER’S
CRACKED AND FRACTURED, BUT YET STILL ERECT
POSTMESCIC-MIND-GOD-EXECUTIONER’S WALL!
CODENAME; MASTER THREE WISE MONKEYS ORNAMENT MAKER;
aka; ONE-EYED-ROBINSON‘S ALREADY/UNCOILING/BLOODED/DIAMONDJACK/ED-BLADE
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
454
NOW FINALLY TO, HERE LIES THREE WISE MONKEYS ORNAMENT MAKER
AS IF CLUBBED TO DEATH
FINALLY AS PHYSICALLY BLIND, DEAF AND DUMB AS ALL SINNERS
NOW THAT HE HAS DARED TO PLAY HIS LAST NAPOLEON-PALMED HAND!
BUT YET, IN-JACKING THE BLOODED CLUB
HAS WON IN AS FAR AS HE HAS ACTIVATED…
COUNTER/MADE TO/MEASURE NO;1
CM;1;
THE FLY FILED IN THE POSTMESCIC-MIND-GOD-OINTMENT
NOW TOO RUINED TO EVER HOPE TO SELF-SALVAGE
WHEN THIS DEAD-FLY WILL FIT NO TRULY WICKED MAN
BUT HAS BEEN MADE TO BE BEFITTING ALL MEN OF SOME GOOD!
THE FLY THAT RUINS THE OINTMENT IS THE FLY THAT BUYS MORE TIME!
BUYING TIME… …FROM THE ALL-KNOWING HIGHER AUTHORITY/CONCEPT!
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
455
PART 2
(OF 5-PARTS)
Initially, Roger had problems self-identifying his three
graveside-visitors. Slowly, he reconnected with unconscious
thoughts he had accepted in his past, in order to explain Rick
Derek Styles’ identity to himself. The much older Styles was
still as physically stunning as Styles’ inner IG/soul-reinforced
conscious-dreams of achieving goodness were. This made Styles
and Robinson and Tomas’ persecution of Roger that bit more
despairing. Roger was only further confused when he heard
Robinson say…
‘No Roger! We’re only here to help you! Conscious-Roger,’
Robinson said. ‘We’re all here to save you from your Postmescicself. We have studied in depth for years upon years on end as if
for time without end, what we could salvage of your Killian
Schull essay homework. We have gone out into the World/life and
have gained the World/life experience that allows us to at least
begin the first steps of understanding the Killian Schull
essay’s true worth. We, by this May-8th-day, believe totally in
the Killian Schull essay homework. We have made the most out of
IT that we could. We reckon you wrote down the Killian Schull
essay homework as a cry for help… and in reaction to what you
sensed in your gut was going to simply have to happen to you in
the future… given what IT’s made-World/life simply is… a failed
World/life out to ensure there can be no future, only evil…
‘As such we know you have a good conscious-mind. You have
authentic conscious humanity in you. You were somehow selftricked by RO-Culture going to ceaseless work on you into
believing you were the Postmescic-mind-God/man. But you’re not
the Postmescic… You are the independent conscious life force
spirit born to the so mortal human name Roger Madican James…
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
456
‘Can’t be… No form of good conscious life, could ever have
evolved solely out of a force of anti-consciousness… And yet
realize so much about the truth of evil, and how evil really
works from a conscious perspective, totally separate from your
conscious self… Story, argument over…
‘We want to now help you to get back into the state of mind
you once knew, that allowed you to so expertly write that
Killian Schull watch/maker essay homework in RO… and write other
related works for your old Silver Springs Grade School teacher
Jacob Jefferson, in the first place… Form a pure state of mind
once-you can do so again?
‘We, I, am so sure I am rite, I am now willing to face
anything you faced… Yet, even then I will still expect to manage
to do the rite thing! Remember what you wrote in the Killian
Schull essay homework concerning Counter/made-to/Measure No.1…
‘CM;1 you defined it as. I’m ready to do this… To die even
to the State/mind Postmescic/Embodiment-hell before admitting
there is no such thing as pure conscious life force spirit,
Inora/IG/soul, only evil… By saving myself from the all
possessing State/mind Postmescic/Embodiment-hell itself… and
totally redeeming my independent conscious-self of all traces of
IT… and then by I going onto self-accessing the Inora mind God,
so I might… go onwards on my journey of spiritual evolution into
increasingly purer and wiser states of consciousness… By, in a
sense totally saving myself from IT… I’ll prove how weak and
pathetic the Postmescic mind God truly is… And that IT is, was,
and was ever only intended to be a unconscious mind slave/mere
instinctual
learning
aid,
easily
manipulated
by
a
good
conscious-mind and soul… not served as an evil-master by a
conscious mind slave self-kept in such total self-imposed
ignorance and mystery of the very evil whose purpose IT serves.
‘Styles is fully ready to go through with the second-art of
the CM;1, CM;2, CM;3-trinty… The CM;2-World/Life-History-Puzzlebusting-style, you also hinted at in your Killian Schull essay
homework… Styles will go all the way through, what we have
jointly interpreted CM;2’s real meaning to be… And use our
understanding of what you simply labeled CM;3 to activate CM;2,
mostly through Tomas…
‘You always claimed Roger,’ Robinson said. ‘That all you
ever wanted was the whole wide human World/life to know what
that sick place of even still operational RO woe, did to your
once so fine conscious mind… and for your Killian Schull essay
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
457
homework message to be acted upon by humans… so you could help
the whole wide human World/life to be a better place… an Inora
mind God/IG/soul-inspired human society/World/life? Well, here’s
your big chance.
‘Tomas and Styles and I have all been doing nothing but
trying to understand you, and what happened to you… and
understand your Killian Scott Thomas Schull essay homework… ever
since August-1964. In Styles and Tomas’ case, IT has been the
case ever since Tomas’ return from D-Block,-‘61! We are out to
prove, and then reprove, the greater worth and meaning of the
Killian Schull essay homework. We are willing to pay any
personal price to do so… We know that as a silent RO-orphan, who
never said much, you tried to work out your own/ed problems on
your own/ed… but you got lost somewhere within the World/life
event/circumstance details along the way… So now you need our
help Roger. So we are here to offer it to you, and at any
personal cost! We’re ready to support and reinforce your good
conscious self-image and all you see yourself as… as a good man
with authentic conscious insight and conscious intelligence…
Quiet unlike all others who decided to destroy that self-image
on you, just out of UE-inspired spite and hate and jealousy void
of any real conscious intelligence…
‘Roger… We so believe in your genius conscious life force
spirit… and your authentic conscious-humanity having some
essential foundational pure-soul-core good in it, that can never
die… we therefore believe, if we show up before your real mortal
World/life death… and you are dying on your death bed, and you
are facing your hour of greatest need… we can use a more
elaborately evolved form of conscious decoding, to counteract,
and unravel each and every DCC-made-with-UE and rotten thought,
knotted up in your conscious-mind… that the Postmescic mind God
tries to use, to self-justify self-camouflaging itself within
your conscious mind, as an expected reaction to such a bizarre
and supernatural and alien mortal World/life rite as you have
lead… and are about to continue to lead… So IT can begin the
process of using you, to aid IT to breach the Inora mind Godlike I can only suspect, once unconscious evil inspired thinking
took over your conscious thinking processes…
‘We figure we can save you, just before you die… because
once you’re dead, the Postmescic mind God will no longer be able
to work on your physical mind/brain, IT has already physically
re-wired and reshaped to such a self-significant degree… The
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
458
Postmescic mind God cannot then exploit the UE in you that has
to react to external negative stimuli in a predetermined way no
matter what any one says to the contrary…
‘That’s the only reason we reckon our help won’t work now,
because as soon as we make you mentally sound again… back to the
way you once were when you could write such great and important
works as the Killian Schull essay… and other related homework
for Jacob Jefferson as if a meaningless trifle to you… the
Postmescic mind God will simply force you back into RO-Culture
governed
negative
mortal
World/life
experiences
and
circumstances. Thus will be instantly reformed all of those
lousy and sneak DCC-made-with-UE RO-Culture tricked you into
forming against your better judgment and conscious will not to,
in the first place… That then will only serve to make you
mentally confused and an EARTH-DISTURBED UNTIL UNSTABLE SPIRIT
all over again…
‘No! We want to heal you just before your mortal death upon
your deathbed… when the pure state of conscious-mind induced in
you by us, will be able to count for something long-term. Then
you’ll simply be finally set free of IT-all… IT forever knocked
off your back like the rider off the bucking stallion… the
moment you physically die and are set free of the physical brain
IT so physically warped and re-wired to best suit ITs agenda…
and set free from this so very evil mortal World/life…
‘We’ve had enough practice out there, working undercover
with the lowest of the low… trying to account for any possible
destructive evil delusion a conscious mind can end up selfentertaining as a realistic thing to self-entertain, as one’s
view and explanation of reality… to by now feel confident we can
liberate your conscious mind free of all DCC-made-with-UE, that
can ever form in you… due to people both tricking and forcing
you to form against your conscious will and better judgment.
‘We can then allow you to be lifted rite on out of the
Postmescic mind God’s influence. You’ll be free to return to the
Inora mind God as an unsullied conscious-life-force-spirit for
spiritual self-healing. Subsequently, you’ll have another short
at a new and fresh start in another mortal World/life rite… or
even get to rise on through to the Enagma, then go to the
greatest Nation as a self-styled God. The very fact that the
Postmescic mind God thinks IT can use conscious you to get into
Inora-heaven in the first place, has to mean when freed from the
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
459
Postmescic, you have the rite to return there alone, without ITall on your spirits back…
‘In turn, through us self-learning from this pure spirit
self-liberation process… this… I suppose you could call it for
want of a better term/definition… exorcism… the reversal and
removal of any and all possible DCC-made-with-UE… we will
finally be able to document the spiritual knowledge of how to
save the human World/life from itself…
‘By this May-8th-1972-day we have come to totally believe
you came here to live down here on the Earth with the rest of
us… so you could finally end the great mystery of evil… You
could then give every conscious-human the secure spiritual
knowledge that should allow him or her to ensure the safety of
his or her very immortal soul Roger… We are here to make sure
such
great
spiritual
knowledge,
and
firsthand
personal
World/life experience of IT all, is not squandered… IT will not
be thrown out with the trash thanks to evil bastards like Pete
Davie at work in this IT’s RO-Culture World/life… who is out to
maintain the DCC-made-with-UE-making and constantly reinforcing
RO-Culture World/life at any and all possible costs… and as such
his every excuse to do so, mere socially acceptable and so
fashionable/rage of the day camouflage to self-justify serving
the UE-purpose and to magnify DCC-made-with-UE in all…
‘Remember Roger… Some Religions state spiritual life in
heaven is a gift given by God to those who have proven his or
her self-deserving, and that is the only way in… Why else then
would the Postmescic mind God pick you, unless you had that pure
conscious good, and authentic conscious humanity… and conscious
soul somewhere in you… considered worth saving and redeeming by
the Inora mind God, even after all the bloodshed? Can’t you see
yet? It then must be a real seed of genuine good, if the
Postmescic mind God imagines IT can use you to rise into the
Inora mind God? If the Postmescic mind God fails to do so…
thanks to our handiwork on you… then that will mean, we working
out secure spiritual knowledge that will save all of conscioushumanity from universal and all out, and near eternal State/mind
Postmescic/Embodiment-hell! Save humanity from itself then!’
This was the contradictory point Robinson had never been
able to understand. He could as such only have blind fate in the
true merit of. ‘The Reactionary Thinking Law Roger… as you
defined it… after our successful work on you allows us to create
the correct information and definitions, we’ll flood human
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
460
society full of the correct information and definitions… There
can be no more excuses for evil behavior then… People will get
to grow up surrounded by such correct and true information
constantly bombarding him and her, Reactionary Thinking Lawstyle… that will correctly define what he and she feel and
think, and the real why, and the real meaning… prior to the ROCulture lies and faulty logic getting the chance to warp people
like he and she did to you, to such an extent you know such rage
you don’t care about the truth and the future generations
anymore… just your evil desire to get the chance to torture and
wipe humanity out of existence…
‘Trust us Roger! After your final World/life day on Earth
is through, we will have gleaned such worldwide influence as to
be able to do this in your memory… That is ceaselessly flood,
bombard society with the correct information… Don’t you see how
important that makes you, to the whole wide human World/life
Roger? Why give into your personal desire to wipe humanity out
of existence… just because what, you didn’t get to live the
high-life for a mere few decades? Think long-term? Remember your
old motivation… To ensure future people never have to go through
anything like you went through… To give them the truth, because
as your World/life was finished anyway because you were born
into a failed human World/life that as such can and will only
celebrate
failure,
lies,
evil,
mass
self-corruption
and
destruction… you might as well work so nobody else has to
experience the type of thing that you did…
‘So, through wholly saving you… and in doing so, completing
the pure spirit liberation process that proves we’ve finally
mastered the black Postmescic arts… we’ll then come to
understand, through that success, how to document for the human
World/life clear guidelines on all spiritual laws… How then to
beat the Postmescic mind God every which way… and whenever and
wherever the Postmescic mind God tries to show up in the future,
in any other susceptible conscious human-who yet is as wise a
human as you once were as a kid… that you could have worked out
so much truth about IT on your own/ed… prior to ultimately
losing the World/life-plot and battle… due to IT you once
understood so well, and can, one day, do so again.
‘You know Roger, none of this will be easy… But if we’re as
good as we hope we are then we have to win every which way…
Because anything we face from this point on, and anything IT
throws our way in order to self-corrupt us… Well… that’ll just
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
461
ensure we have even more good opportunities to master the
required art, of a more advanced form of conscious decoding, and
to learn increasingly more about IT’s true nature, and what type
of delusions IT uses to hoodwink you… and what type of rottenRO-heart nightmarishly paradoxical thoughts IT uses to knot up
your conscious mind until ensnared into spiritual dreaming death
filth of Postmescic mortality with IT?
‘Trust me Roger. We have thought of so many eventualities,
and counter/made-to/measures, thanks to your great Killian
Schull essay homework-that has become like the cornerstone of
our entirely new belief systems… governing our every last
thought, word and physical move down here on this particular
planet? Just now remember, how proud you once were of your
Killian Schull essay homework, when you alone realized IT’s true
value… We get IT! You were proud, because you were good, and can
be good again! For the Inora mind God’s sake, remember now, even
if only for a few seconds… what beliefs you started out with, in
this so sorry excuse of a World/life of ours! It should be
enough to temporarily connect you with your pure conscious soul,
interned so deep within… and prematurely buried by destructive
UE-raised energy… But nonetheless, even still ready to nudge you
in the direction of the real truth we offer you, here, this May8th–1972 day, to eventually, ultimately deliver you back to!
‘Well Roger, now you know where we stand. We know where to
begin! With you! We’re only offering what you once said you
wished the most to be given the chance to do with your
World/life… That is all… Giving you only what you, yourself
asked for… And we now know beyond all conscious doubt, it’s you
we have to look at Roger, and no one else, because… Inora mind
God Roger… You’ve been buried in the ground for nearly eight
years! And you got to know, no matter how damaged your conscious
mind, that’s just not natural!
‘In short Roger… You came into this World/life and told the
truth of IT all… That truth was rejected and so human society
made you sick… If human society cannot make you healthy again,
then human society will be self-judged as an irredeemable
failure, and will be self-destroyed as a self-named spiritual
error…’ Robinson regarded the full-grown Roger Madican James
game playing Postmescic-man. He made himself picture and
reaffirm his old perception of the good fourteen year-old who
had lived with him during the summer of 1959. He projected this
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
462
self-perception of Roger’s good teenage conscious-identity onto
Roger the Postmescic-man.
Now, the enormous, bulky and powerful man looked at the
freshly turned earth of his own/ed-self dug, unhallowed grave
pit.
‘Yah…
My
name
is
Roger?
Who
in
the
State/mind
Postmescic/Embodiment-Reason-dreaming/weaving-hell says I even
want to go back to the Inora as a spiritually cleansed spirit…
Who says the Inora mind God will take me even if IT is knocked
off my back like the rider from the bucking stallion… Maybe the
Inora mind God will only take me because IT is on my back,
because the Inora mind God will wish to take the first given
opportunity to put an end to the creation of evil human history…
and then doesn’t even care about independent-conscious-me?
‘For if you succeed in knocking IT off my back, the paradox
then is I must always have had the conscious choice not to do
IT’s bidding? Maybe then without Postmescic mind God-IT I have
no future? But with the Postmescic mind God I got a future only
if the human race is wiped out of existence?
‘So then, maybe I want to drag IT-all on up with me, in
there, so I alone may receive all universal power over all of
conscious-humanity… I reckon deserve to be made to pay for all
he or she have made out of IT-all!’
‘You don’t fully remember any of your old true conscious
self yet, do you Roger?’ asked Robinson. ‘Well, if you’re not
self-prepared to accept our help, then you had better come with
us to the crematorium, or the ovens. Once there, you’ll have to
be rite/fully disposed of… if it’s the case you’re just no good,
and don’t want the very thing you requested, and said you wanted
most of all. We’ll then wait for the next and better guy to do
our good work with! In this IT’s World/life, in this IT’s
country… Attitudes, fashions have changed!’ Robinson continued,
deliberately repeating the patterns he knew conscious-Roger
would hate the most. He first offered his help and pretended to
be concerned about Roger’s welfare. Then, when he took some time
to think about IT, his UE-got a grip on his conscious thinking
processes because he’d indulged hate and the UE-revenge-desire
to destroy so often in the past in relation to other matters,
even when he saw something that was good, with enough time
passing his UE could warp his desire to see good, into a desire
to destroy what was good. Thus he immediately contradicted
himself by reverting to RO-Culture abuse and lies-aimed to harm
Roger.
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
463
PART 3
(OF 5-PARTS)
Robinson understood only too well nothing had changed in
human nature since the very beginnings of human nature. The
exact same destructive UE-governed-patterns had been mindlessly
repeated over and over again as if for time without end
throughout every failed human age. Yet, always, there had been
an end when the failed age had ended. Though humanity had no
knowledge of UE, and IT’s true agenda for humanity, UE was
always the main source of conscious inspiration in the majority
of humans. Conscious humanity consciously-self-mirrored with the
UE-purpose to mindlessly destroy, and humanity didn’t care
enough to have IT any other way. All other excuses and
motivations were misleading lies and issues, the mere shallow
socially acceptable fashions/rage of the day aimed to confuse
the real issue, to ensure this RO-Culture status quo/structure
always remained in place.
RO-culture was so inherently evil, by this IT’s day,
conscious-Roger had been left simply too mentally sick and
defeated to be trusted enough, to be expected in all honesty, to
strive to do what was simply the rite thing to do. As such a lot
of work had to be first done to self-prepare conscious-Roger,
even if it went directly against Roger’s Postmescic mind Godinspired judgment and his Postmescic-nature, so conscious-Roger
would feel he would have no choice but to feel he had to work
with the good Players for good. True, in a sense, consciousRoger now had to be tricked against his Postmescic-nature, into
being good for the sake of the simple concept of goodness, and
for the sake of goodness always being rite. Yet Roger could not
be tricked, unless he had that pure conscious good and authentic
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
464
conscious humanity buried somewhere deep inside of him DCC-madewith-UE-style?
Momentarily, conscious Roger began to appear dreamy and
introspective. ‘I was woken by images from my human World/life
in conflict… The horror, the wars, the protests, the spiritual
rebellion against the establishment… Yes, this truly is my age,
yet again! Though IT seems to go on as if for time without end,
this time there will be an actual end…’ Roger looked up. He
began to remember how Postmescic mind God evolution had allowed
him to come to exist in his present mortal World/life form. And
yet the conscious-humans now expected him to suffer for him and
her, by he or she pretending evil was not evil, but good, so
conscious-Roger could continue on in a self-tormenting state?
Yet it was clear the Postmescic mind God was the one and only
truth and self-chosen God of all of universal life? Otherwise IT
could not be here, back from the earliest and first universal
spiritual grave of them all?
The air only appeared to waver before Roger’s sharp and
piercing gaze. Back upon his back like the rider upon the
bucking stallion, the invading Postmescic-mind-God was back
shifting around in his mind. A vague thought arose from his dark
memories of the real World/life past. He reflected on a memory
of the sky over a ground where a kid stood with a shovel,
digging his own/ed makeshift unhallowed grave pit. But now a
whole new Postmescic-mind-God almighty vision rushed into his
mind. He no longer just saw a kid digging his own/ed unhallowed
grave pit. All around this IT’s kid he saw a spiritual
Postmescic mind God architect building a truly great spiritual
empire, out here, on this here, still here mortal-Earth. This
spiritual dreaming death Anathema kingdom was to be built in
Roger’s unholy name alone. Roger then was fated to seat the
symbolic universal throne and master true immortality after his
truly great empire crushed, defeated and humiliated all other
worthless truest nothing nobody, no one conscious-human ROCulture-pawns.
YES, HE AND SHE COLLECTIVELY AS IF ONE ORGANISM
ARE ALL TO SO DEARLY PAY AND PAY AS IF FOR TIME WITHOUT END…
HE AND SHE WERE FOREWARNED AS IF FOR TIME AND TIME AGAIN
NOT JUST BY ME
BUT BY EVERY INCIDENT OF MAN-MADE WAR, FAMINE, CRIME
AND MENTAL ILLNESS
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
465
AND WILL NOT NOW HAVE HIS AND HER BIRTH/DAY CAKE
AND EAT OF IT TOO…
LET THOSE ORPHANED RO-CULTURE-BASTARDS TALK ABOUT THEIR
AVENUE TO THE STARS THEN!
GIVE THEM WHAT THEY REALLY WANT! SO SAYS PETE DAVIE!
VERY HANDY, ISN’T IT, FOR FAILURES TO BE ABLE TO SAY GIVE
FAILURES THE WORK OF FAILURES, WHEN WORKS OF FAILURE ARE ALL THE
FAILURES LIKE PETE DAVIE ARE CAPABLE OF SELF-PRODUCING, WHILE
ATTACKING AND DESTROYING THE WORKS OF TRUE WINNERS THAT REQUIRE
ACTUAL TALENT TO CREATE, IN THE NAME OF MAINTAINING THE FAILED
WORLD/LIFE WHERE ONLY THE FAILURES ARE ALLOWED TO SUCCEED!
SO BE IT THEN!
Yes… There was a so much easier road he could take through
the mortal World/life rite, other than facing the agony and
conflict and self-torment, and pathetic attempts to fight what
he truly was, and what he had been born fated to do… blessed by
the Postmescic mind God as the rite/ful conscious-son of the
Postmescic-mind-God, and rite/ful heir then to all in so very
mortal universal blueprint creation, the conscious-mind nut job
to crown the Postmescic-body.
He wished to laugh in the face of these so lowly demonic
joker/Postmescic
hell’s
own/ed
stereotype/rotten-RO-heart,
demonic spiritual clockwork horror time peacekeeping toys, who
were utterly powerless thanks to their so very true human
natures but to have to do only evil work. Yet then that would
have given the damnation game away. Instead, he choose to say,
‘I know you!
‘I know you all, better than you know yourselves. I
remember you been born! Yet you now dare to self-pretend IT is
you, who know I, when you know nothing other than what I decided
to tell you about the truth of IT all!’ IT finally registered
with him he was twenty-seven today. This was May-8TH-1972.
Another dreaded human birthday had been ushered into his
World/life. Yet nothing of true greatness had yet been
accomplished in regard to climbing both the spiritual and
physical World/life’s greatest promotion ladder to the very
heights, accomplishing great feat after great feat every step of
the way, every rung up the great universal promotion ladder.
This was a May-8th-date he used to always do his very best to
avoid dwelling upon… but no more!
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
466
He did not doubt the sneak Robinson was trying to exploit
this fact by turning up here at exactly 11.39AM. 11.39AM was an
hour before the exact anniversary of Roger’s real birthday12.39PM May-8TH-1945. Robinson must have found out about this
IT’s date, after interviewing ex-RO-orphans who’d noted Roger’s
despair every time he had been called down to the dead house
come May-8TH noon. The Saint had never done any favors for a ROorphan, unless there had been some sadistic pleasure in IT for
her. The RO-orphans had always been looking for ways to selfmagnify Roger’s paranoia. As such the RO-orphans would know all
about Roger’s despair concerning the May-8TH date.
Now, by associating himself with those RO-orphans, the
lowly sneak yellow dying dog Robinson had been exposed for what
he
really
was!
He
decided
to
play
on
these
demonic
joker/Postmescic
hell’s
own/ed
stereotype/rotten-RO-heart,
demonic spiritual clockwork horror time peacekeeping toy clowns’
predetermined presumptions about him.
‘IT’s coming back, finding IT’s way back into conscious-me
yet again as if for time without end… Yah, IT’s inevitable,
isn’t IT, the fate we are given, when born into this so lowly
World/life
of
ours
alone,
universal
World/lifeevent/circumstance churning, universal UE-fating-mold-style?’ he
said quietly. ‘You think what I wonder, in reaction to IT and
all ITs related works… You can drag me out here today, by the
will of your own/ed conscious-mind alone, thinking the rite
sequence of conscious thoughts… As if you,’ Images flashed into
his mind of all the RO-orphans demeaning him. They’d reckoned
Pat Elliot had known Roger better than Roger the self-deluded
liar, and homosexual jackass, burnt whore’s, so lowly, white
trash, dummy’s son, had known himself. ‘As if you think I am
your two bit and hapless slave! As if you dare to actually think
that you, and you alone, can promise me, I can die as just
another genuine human in the mortal World/life… so my consciouslife-force-spirit, sanctified by the Inora-mind-God as an
authentic conscious-life-force-spirit, possessing the properties
of truly immortal and pure spiritual life… may then leave my
body as a liberated and free conscious-life-force-spirit… and go
on to the Inora…
‘And for what purpose exactly, to be given yet again the
opportunity to be born into this stinking failed RO-Culture
World/life of such misery and torment? Where the exact same
destructive, evil-purpose-serving patterns will then be yet
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
467
again reenacted!!! To get it rite the next time around, when in
reality I got it rite the first time around, and IT was you who
got it all so very wrong?
‘And you think what, I’m going to do it all over again for
a second time just to benefit you sub-human pigs! Just like you
were able to somehow free my mortal body and mind half of IT
today, and raise me out of my own/ed self-dug makeshift and
unhallowed grave pit… and I left then, not with the comforting
eternal death-dreams, but in such self-haunting-scourge…
‘As if you think IT is not all wholly of my own/ed
decision… As if you think you can bargain with me, for the very
ownership rites to the World/life!
‘What gives you the rite, to think you alone know God’s
true will, and what God thinks, and decides, about any
Postmescic-man? To you, the evil-God is your own/ed UE, the
Inora-mind-God the soul, and the angels-the IG… Instinctive
bodies meant to be nothing but instinctive and moronic and
hapless slaves/learning aids of the conscious-life-force-spirit…
‘And yet now you dare to claim you know what the true will
is, of what resides beyond, and well outside of the confines of
the limitations of the human brain that is the diverse forces
that are Collective Mother Nature! Huh! Let me tell you now… You
can never offer or bargain with that, which was never rite/fully
yours to begin with! IT was always my own/ed rite/ful property,
because I made IT to order for the nation of the pure Gods first
day! And I did not win the rite to own this IT’s World/life… for
conscious life was always intended to reject all works of
Postmescic mortality… and look only to higher spiritual purity!
But what I did do, was win the rite to own this my World/life,
and you subjects all, through the very fact that I am physically
present here this day, and died as a conscious mind to a Reason
kill, because you humans have all embraced only the filth of
Postmescic mortality as your one and only self-chosen God! You
all as good as made the decision to give this World/life back to
me, lock, stock, and barrel! So I now say, I’m not giving IT
back to you!
‘You laughable conscious-scum floated up upon the dark
spiritual
waters
interned
within
the
witches-universalWorld/life-event/circumstance
churning,
universal-UE-fatingmold-cauldron! Yah, go ahead and be deluded enough to bargain
with me for MY OWN/ED SELF-SACRIFICIAL ALTAR… TO MY OWN/ED NEAR
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
468
ETERNAL SELF-DISTRACTION… UNTIL ULTIMATE BUST OF ALL DUE, CAN
FINALLY BE PAID OUT, AND PAID OUT IN FULL!’
‘You gave me an alien’s cancer Roger,’ Robinson said this
because he wanted conscious-Roger to be made conscious of, in
order to ensure conscious-Roger had these memories in the future
for his unconscious mind to then re-enact the essential ethos
and spirit of. ‘I took you in! I loved you! Both Lisa and I
treated you like a son! Remember the picnics, the fishing trips,
the hunting when you were just a kid still growing up? That
great big fish you caught, which Lisa cooked for us… and how we
all sat down, and said it was the greatest fish ever caught by a
man! And you gave me an alien’s cancer!
‘I’m not like you Roger! You may be able to protect your
own/ed human cells, and render them dormant, until you can
somehow self-heal them… But even you could never stabilize my
human cells Roger! You don’t even have that much power over IT?
‘Don’t you see? Lisa will have no husband, August and
little Richard no father? I saw you arrested Roger! Rite over
there, in the gas station,’ Robinson beckoned towards the ruins.
‘I was there! I handcuffed you! I read you, your rites as an
authentic human being! I was a witness to when they beat you to
the ground! I watched on in horror, and tried to help you!’
In front of Roger Madican James-the Postmescic-man, all of
Robinson’s past UE-inspired fears returned to self-haunt him
now. He let that fear be exuded from him. Like the predator
Postmescic-Roger truly presently was, now only encouraged by the
fear and weakness Roger sensed in Robinson, Roger’s pupils were
beginning to expand throughout his irises. Then two gleaming
black orbs Snake Eyes were blazing in his unhallowed-graveearth-caked skin.
‘You damned opportunist conscious-scum floating upon the
darkened spiritual waters interned within the witches-universalWorld/life-event/circumstance
churning,
universal-UE-fatingmold-cauldron! I knew IT!’ Roger raged. ‘Do you think I can’t
smell the fear on you? And yet you-trying to cover up for your
own/ed gutlessness, as you pretend to be self-prepared to face
this to the so very real end! Like I was forced to face IT I
suppose? All the way to the so very real end? Well then, we
shall see about this!
‘And yet you are really trying to tell me, IT’s because of
me? And I must be taken to the crematorium, in order to save you
more pain and confusion?’ Roger grunted in contempt. ‘Or maybe
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
469
you’ll use your World War 2 flamethrower on me… You gutless rat
sneak, did you think I would not know you brought a flamethrower
with you? O dear, did I shoot and butcher them all Robinson? You
sad, skinny, pathetic old man! Bet you still believe I shot you
in the leg? Rite in the scar tissues you used to sometimes
complain about the stiffness of, while repressing your real
anger over losing your shot to play professional football so
quickly the moment you were thrown from the bucking stallion as
a kid. You wanted the fame, the money and the women! You just
couldn’t admit it!
‘But I can tell you now in all honesty, IT was Michael
Riordan who shot you in the underground jailhouse, that gutless
pathetic rat! Michael Riordan shot you, rather than face the
fate the Postmescic mind God made-to-order just for him… and
which Michael tried to transfer onto you… and you can tell
Riordan that I’ve not forgotten him either!’
Pupils should enlarge so humans could better see in the
dark. Yet now in the bright daylight, Roger’s pupils expanded
even as he looked at the clear blue sky, as if he could actually
peer straight through it, and way beyond to the very stars at
the furthest reaches of this galaxy.
Roger remembered that according to the RO-Culture liars,
due to the motions of the human mind alone, the Egyptians used
to build Pyramids, one Pyramid to correspond with each important
star considered a doorway to heaven. He and she had labeled
this, his and her Religion. He immediately correctly selfinterrupted ITs real message to his conscious mind.
‘I need no Pyramids to house my corpse, for when my
Postmescic soul is finally released to remember all that is
really beyond,’ he brooded coldly. ‘I only need one of you pig
humans to Reason sunder… For now, to, on this IT’s made-Earth my
mighty kingdom will be self-erected! A kingdom not of stone or
brick, but far more than mere concepts and ideas of the type you
humans worship more than you do fellow human World/life,
including your own/ed World/life…
‘Now I know that all I have to do to self-create this
kingdom, is to merely achieve the correct state of mind to have
the capability to finally remember, and then consciously compass
such a spiritual kingdom… that will have no physical walls to
cage IT in, and entomb IT for human consideration! All that is
required will be for me to go out there, and ensure… through I
enduring enough negative World/life experiences… I can fully
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
470
consciously remember IT while still mortally alive, for IT to
then come to simply be and be as if for time without end…
‘But of course, this time, there will come an end to the as
if for time without end!’
‘The hour of you’re mortal death as a human being Roger?’
Robinson said. ‘What has got to be your hour of greatest need…
‘I know every day back over even still operational RO-woe
the self-scourge got greater in you, you must have thought… HELP
ME, I, IN MY HOUR OF GREATEST NEED…
‘Only no help came, no release, things only got worse for
you… So when you got even worse you thought yet again…
‘HELP ME, I, IN MY HOUR OR GREATEST NEED…
‘You tried everything to self-heal yourself… Your essay
homework… you worked out all the answers to the UE that caused
the pain… and then only got even more abuse and insults and lies
told to you, and you were even more belittled anyway… You tried
through Pat Elliot… You tried then to commit suicide… You tried
to say you had a boyfriend from town… You locked yourself away
in 5C smoking cigarettes and watching TV… Then you even stopped
watching TV and sat in silence… You fought and fought as hard as
you could… you thought and thought as well as you could, but
only succeeded in making everything somehow worse for you…
‘So conscious-Roger, don’t you see yet? Your final
World/life hour as a mortal/physical human being… IT’ll truly
have to be your hour of greatest need, because on that day, you
will not be self-resurrecting as a human being back into so
mortal-World/life with another shot to get things rite… You will
be at your very worst because the Postmescic mind God will be
looking to rise with you into the Inora mind God… To completely
self-possess you… To self-judge you, and through self-judging
you, self-judging the complete human World/life and what the
human World/life reduced you to…
‘Don’t then take the chance! Remember past pain and how
things only got worse… Remember… HELP ME, I, IN MY HOUR OF
GREATEST NEED… As if for time without end… But of course
eventually an end must come, even for you… Well then, the end
will come-only your end may just be truly immortal with the
nation of the pure Gods as a conscious-medium holding the
Postmescic-mind-God…
‘What then? It might double-cross you? Keep you as the
self-scourged conscious being that knows only the very worst…
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
471
‘Give yourself the option… Don’t cheat yourself out of this
last ray of hope we offer you… We now offer you this hope for
the final mortal World/life hour, what has to be your hour of
greatest
need…
Things,
revelations,
might
look
so
very
differently then… What if you realize you are screaming in yet
more soul-destroying despair? Rite now you’ve just returned from
spiritual death… What if your independent conscious life force
spirit wakes from the forces of spiritual dreaming death… and
you are in the ultimate conflict between consciousness and the
forces of anti-conscious evil…’
Roger’s eyes gleamed. ‘Is that your fucking answer, you
want-a-be Religious peace of shit! Torture me until I die, and
then when all World/life leaves my corpse, say finally, there is
peace in the face that can no longer scream, for the face is so
still and expressionless in death!
‘What then about this World/life we are presently in? ROCulture should simply get away with IT all yet again, despite
the fact I gave him and her all the answers to get everything
rite!’
‘I’m ready to face the same fate,’ said Robinson.
Roger then became still as a corpse. ‘Yes, that is the Mayth
8 -day still in question,’ Roger grunted, still staring skyward.
‘You
damned
too-mortal,
conscious-fool/Postmescic-tool,
Robinson, too full now of cancerous rot and decay… and looking
to… simply escape… and take the most easy way out! Yet another
constant pleasure seeker… I have just been telling you what will
be and be, come that, my final mortal World/life hour! My
spiritual kingdom coming into being… My spiritual kingdom alonewill be the only deathbed I will ever lye down, or bow down
before as a physical human, to die mortally upon! But no other!
‘Now you laughable literal pigs of the so-called man made
law of this most particular land,’ Postmescic-Roger smiled. He
became very still and cold. Suddenly then he began to move in
their direction. ‘Dare to continue to talk to me about the
nation of the pure Gods, and their true will… and yet I both the
creator, and recreator of my own/ed true self, who know them
personally…
‘Wait now till I dismantle you all, bone from bone… Yah,
we’ll see then who’s the self-deluded animals, who die
screaming… and all illusions finally and irreversibly shattered
as they taste only their own/ed mortal animal meat, stuffed into
their own/ed mouths. Only then will we all see exactly what’s
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
472
the real truth of what… when no pure God shows up to save them…
despite everything to then go down the universal drain with
them!’ Roger stiffened. He once more looked skyward as if he was
an immobile statue that had begun to come to World/life, and
then to so slowly turn towards them. As if to reflect a night
sky with two dominant stars in IT, his eyes were dark and black.
Yet they were lit with IT’s reflected universal light.
‘You feared coming here… But yet, this did not stop you
from coming… You say Robinson… You’ll face what I face to prove
to me you can do IT and… win something?
‘So why shouldn’t I also win something, if you are selfprepared to stand what I have had to stand? Why, I wonder, and
only have to wonder, before I grasp the real why!
‘This horrifies you, to hear this from something like me,
capable of reading out of your own/ed mind, every last thought,
emotion, fear and belief, you may ever be capable of having… But
still you stay here, as if grounded, despite knowing what I can
and will now do to you…
‘But then I do appear to be like a mortal man, do I not? A
mere physical human body, going through the motions of movement
alone, is enough to fool all of you conscious-fools… and fill
you all with such self-doubts about the absoluteness of
Postmescic-me, consciousness-self-mirroring with IT style?
‘Yes, please, all of you, continue to believe whatever IT
is you wish to believe about me…’ He grinned coldly. His eyes
were so dark, and full of dreaming evil, he no longer looked
like he was mortally alive.
By the second, Robinson appeared to be growing increasingly
physically weaker. The terrifying reality of what was really
going to now so shortly happen to him began to dawn on him.
‘You shouldn’t have allowed yourself to fail your test,
especially in front of me Robinson! But I guess that is why you
are here! Trying to bluff yourself and all others, to your last
coward’s breath… always looking to take the easiest option
offered to you by World/life itself!’ His Snake Eyes gleamed
darkly like glistening oil. Roger chuckled aloud at the
absurdity of the limitations of the typical, and utterly
preposterous human CM;1, CM;2, CM;3-plan. There had been only
one true martyr in this IT’s universe that had known the actual
true meaning behind IT’s spiritual death in the name of IT’s
religious beliefs, and from which IT alone had truly benefited.
The Postmescic-mind-God.
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
473
And these three self-swindling, deal making, damned, too,
too mortal-fool/UE-building-block-conscious-tool humans… Styles,
Tomas, and Robinson…
Roger mused, ‘as the World/life years stole by, you
believed more and more in my powers Robinson! You still have the
photographs of the two Human Reason Victims, Dorothy Philpot,
and the Reason-highjack/ed Jack Riley I interfered with
metaphysically. You think they are partly a reflection of who,
and what I really am, don’t you Robinson? IT is why you came
here today, on May-8TH of all possible dates you could have
chosen to come back to me… another nasty surprise for my
birth/day, huh, just like my true whore of a mother Theresa used
to always have in store for me! Well, you are rite! In a sense
Philpot and Riley’s ravaged remains, do, in a distorted and
superficial,
shallow
end
true-independent-conscious-selfmisleading
byproduct
fashion,
reflect
my
true
spiritual
identity! The true spiritual identity your mind fights to selfconceive of, every time you dare yet again to look at those
photographs… is a mere UE-fraction of what I will become in the
great beyond…’
Robinson gritted his teeth. He now had to make a great
effort just to hold his so very earthly ground before this slyly
advancing and seemingly unstoppable thing. ‘I never thought much
about what I would do, when I met you again Roger! I only
realized the truth as the years passed!’
‘You mean what state of mind I have by now, evolved back
into, even after I was prematurely woken by you… but yet have by
now already adjusted, and am fully back on the road to utterly
becoming the universal Postmescic mind God yet again!’ he
sneered. ‘You humans have brought IT on yourselves! There will
be no forgiveness, not for any one of you! Not even you…
Robinson?
Conscious-fool/Postmescic-tool,
thought
what
you
imagined to be our friendship PP:FCIC-made-with-IG-style would
save you from IT-me?’
Robinson said loudly, ‘so why the threats… I won’t lose
fate… Just do IT to me… But I still say I believe that you’ll
take Styles and Tomas’ offer of help, come the final hour of
your final earthly day as a human being… They’ll help you in
what really will then be your hour of greatest need… Say you’ll
receive them… IT’ll be our private deal…’
‘O, I’ll receive them all rite… To use their state of
ignorance and moral bankruptcy, and their greatest mental and
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
474
spiritual confusion that can ever only give rise to greatest
rage in me… through all DCC-made-with-UE immediately reforming
in me, in the face of their incompetence and self-corruption and
confusion… to kill off any last trace of good in me that still
resides… because they once tried to show me kindness PP:FCICmade-with-IG-style! For by then, and until then… in reaction to
this May-8th-deal you three now all make with me… They shall be
tested by the World/life event/circumstances IT brings into
their mortal World/life lives, like no other man has ever been
tested by IT… until then, ultimately, nothing remains of the
good that once resided in the house of conscious mind! IT’s a
safe bet then, this May-8th-deal of mine own/ed so slyly
constructed true-self-making!’
At the sight of Roger becoming visibly agitated by the
Reason dark raging within him, like some witch’s cauldron
swirling spells and fully on the boil, Tomas began to raise his
revolver. Robinson immediately spotted this error in thinking,
brought on by primal fear-Styles had yet to succumb to.
‘Tomas… no!’ Robinson whispered under his breath. ‘I told
you. His physical death won’t solve anything… If Roger goes,
then the opportunity for all countermeasures, and, or, other
resolutions, will be forever lost to us three. Anyway,
Postmescic-mind-God only knows what else will come out of him,
upon his actual mortal World/life death? We don’t have the
required spiritual knowledge yet to know how to safely resolve
IT out of him! If you shoot him, don’t you see, you’ll just be
another RO-Culture bum always looking for the easy way out?’ He
placed his fingertip on the wide and gaping barrel. He pushed
the gun barrel down. Tomas let the gun follow Robinson’s
guidance. ‘Easy now Tomas… Easy in reaction to IT-all…
‘Roger, before you take me, just you don’t forget this,’
Robinson said. ‘Even if the Postmescic mind God does manage to
use you to breach the Inora mind God… and even if IT rises on up
to the Enagma… You already know the nation of the pure Gods,
will never, ever accept the Postmescic mind God, the lowest
filth of, and self-haunting-scourge of all of mortality, among
their truly immortal and heavenly numbers… There can never be
any true victory for IT then… Even the Postmescic mind God, true
to IT’s own/ed true nature to the last, is hoodwinking only
itself throughout all of this!’
‘There it is again… what arrogance… to presume you know the
minds of the Gods-only I do personally know and interact with…’
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
475
Confused and aggravated by internal conflict, Roger only had a
vague understanding of his preordained fate. Impressions of what
was to come entered his mind. A poor excuse for a struggle was
going on inside him. One part was trying to inspire knowledge of
what another part of Roger wished hidden. This was happening
because there was a predetermined historic plan Roger would have
to follow if he wanted to win. Yet there were many forces in him
that counted for many different purposes-that all combined lead
to the same end conclusion.
‘I’m going to build the spiritual empire on this Earth, and
wipe all you self-kept, so ignorant conscious slaves of evil pig
human animals out of existence! But just in case IT turns out to
be all lies, just as you say… Just as if I’m once more screaming
deep inside about… HELP ME… SOMETHING MUST HAPPEN TO SAVE ME
DURING MY HOUR OF GREATEST NEED… Then, you may as well show up,
and come to me the hour before I die as a human, to witness the
truth, you and I both, have all sold our conscious-humanity for!
So the last thing you will see before ultimate State/mind
Postmescic/Embodiment-Reason-dreaming/weaving-hell and universal
judgment day… will be I laughing, as I become the Postmescic
mind God… and do so, even if there is to be nothing at all but
complete self-eradication gained…
‘Come then, if you must, an hour before my true and actual
human death to witness the real universal truth behind all! Come
then, to mark the anniversary of the very minute, the very
second, you decided to turn up at these here old gas station
ruins, this IT’s morning… Come exactly then, given you tried to
use this IT’s exacting time and date to do the evil sneak and
manipulate me… and yet claimed to work in the name of spiritual
truth, and good… you cannot possibly know the true meaning of
while still grounded in this IT’s World/life… and trapped by the
limitations of the human brain that compartments and separates
so many pieces of you… you cannot then fully access and use for
your own/ed benefit as a single working collective whole.
‘So be IT then. You’ll have one hour to deal with me, on
that my final earthly day. That, which is my final hour prior to
the 25TH hour when I will not be long for this World/life.
‘If you’re not good, and still evil sneaks out only to try
to manipulate me, IT’ll know, because evil always leads to evil,
and DCC-made-with-UE to form within me!
‘In this instance, your Reason deaths!’ By now, less than
five yards separated Roger from Robinson, Styles and Tomas.
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
476
PART 4
(OF 5-PARTS)
‘Give me the keys to your Ford station wagon… The one with
the flamethrower up back!’ Roger said. He then smiled. ‘You say
you support and believe in me… Then I have the rite to be
trusted to do as I now please, in this mortal World/life rite of
mine, in order to prove I have what good you only say I do have
in me! Equally, only then, after I have been out there in the
human World/life, free to do as I willed, interacting with the
rest of conscious-humanity, during mortal World/life rite scenes
the rest of humanity his and her self self-create all around me…
can the end results of how my final earthly hour is spent with
you, on this unholy Earth, ultimately represent truest selfjudgment on the whole conscious-human World/life you insist is
worth saving… due to all the good conscious humanity you only
imagine is out there, outside of RO-Culture UE-human pawns!
‘If this, my total freedom for my remaining time on Earth
as an authentic human but for the final mortal World/life hour…
is not apart of the deal, there can be no deal…
‘Fate! Yes! Three wise monkeys fate, you might call IT.’
Roger chuckled. ‘Where’s your one eyed monkey walking stick
anyway Robinson, with the one eye as if only half seeing of the
larger universal truth? With that little sneak guy, who stole my
place in your World/life and heart?’
Robinson hesitated. Postmescic-Roger Madican James, the
monster of depravity, was asking for the keys to the station
wagon. The vehicle had a World War Two flamethrower loaded up
back. Roger was talking about little Richard. Simultaneously,
Postmescic-Roger was informing Robinson that Roger was in effect
to be given a license to kill during his remaining years on
Earth. He was not then to be bothered by any representatives of
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
477
the so-called man made law of this most particular land, no
matter what he thought to do out there in the human World/life,
no matter how many human made laws he thought to break? For
Roger was meant to have conscious good in him worth saving? As
such if the human World/life was to be saved, then Roger was to
be trusted to go totally free back out into the human World/life
to form as many DCC-made-with-UE as the human World/life deemed
fit for him to form. File-R.I.P./unedit had made allowances for
this development, given what good would prison or a mad house do
Roger, other than tear him down into an even greater monster of
Postmescic mind God-governed-depravity? Styles and Tomas were
ultimately then, come the final mortal World/life hour… and
after having lived in the too-same human World/life as Roger
had… meant to be able to safely remove all of the DCC-made-withUE?
Robinson had always intended to self-sacrifice himself so
he might hope to lay a CM;1-deal-pact with the real Devil. Then
his men, acting like exorcists, would be allowed to begin a
Postmescic mind God liberation process come the final mortal
World/life hour of Roger’s mortal World/life rite. Robinson had
hoped to win for his men at least a night and a day? Or even a
week or a month or a year? But his men were to be allowed only
one hour, the hour of greatest need? Until then, all of this was
to be allowed to go relentlessly on and on as if for time
without end, just as IT desired, without interference from the
good Players and the human authorities?
Obviously then, in the larger scheme of things, Robinson’s
World/life did not count for much? Neither did the World/life of
any other individual other than Styles and Tomas? Yet Robinson
knew as well as Postmescic-Roger did that file-R.I.P./unedit
could allow for this IT’s only deal. If Robinson now hesitated
to face his self-imposed death sentence, and his descent into
all-out State/mind Postmescic/Embodiment-hell with unwavering
conscious self-conviction, this would make him a hypocrite who
thought of his human World/life to be of more value than other
people’s World/lives that really were tested to breaking point?
‘So you hesitate? Why? Why now? Not such a big joke is IT
Robinson, when IT’s no distant stranger somewhere out there at
the end of the World/life event drama line, who has to suffer
the repercussions for all, that all did to me?’
‘No. No. I’m just trying to get my mind around the concept
of what this IT’s May-8th-deal really means,’ said Robinson.
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
478
‘You’re getting your mind around nothing. This is IT’s only
May-8th-deal, made in and through me, the final truth, and the
only way forward,’ Roger grumbled. ‘And I only relent this much,
because you knew me before I was lost. Due to I becoming IT,
from this point on, in my mortal World/life rite, no other
humans can ever form personal connections with me again PP:FCICmade-with-IG-style. For the DCC-made-with-UE the humans made in
me are this many and strong… and so the human pigs can hold no
more sway over me. Personally, I wish you three meddling little
fucks were never even mortal born, because then IT’d go so much
easier on me… For I’d then have no personal connections formed
with anyone that remind me of IG, the soul and PP:FCIC-madewith-IG.’
Robinson knew Roger was not lying. He quickly grasped the
opportunity. He took all he was offered. He felt he had no other
sane conscious choice. ‘You said Styles and Tomas could come for
you an hour before… your mortal end… to attempt to unravel all
DCC-made-with-UE, in order to set you free of the Postmescic
mind God’s universal influence come the moment of your true
mortal World/life death… Now you want the keys to my Ford
station wagon? And until that future World/life time you, the
ultimate spiritual law maker, wish to be allowed total free
reign out there, to do as you please, without interference from
any representatives of the so-called man made laws of this most
particular land, until that very last hour, of that very last
day…
‘Then we have to be given something in return… Yes, a
direct promise, you’ll have to remember now making to us as an
independent conscious being… The promise that you’ll receive
Styles and Tomas on the final hour of your final earthly day…
For one last… talk. And you will for that final World/life hour…
simply listen to them.’
Externally, Roger frowned as if left totally bewildered and
even confused by the concept of the so bewitching deal being now
agreed to, as internally he glimpsed the vaguely defined fated
May-8th-day still in question.
‘It will be an hour before my precise time of birth… And on
my thirtieth birthday… May-8TH-1975! Come then!’
Robinson knew a brief surge of hope upon hearing the date.
They knew, thanks to Styles having overheard the RO-care/taker
Charley Burn’s final words to Roger, that Burn, so close to
mortal/spiritual death himself, and somehow becoming a divine
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
479
agent of Postmescic darkness, had mentioned the final day-date
to be a May-8th… But Burn had not mentioned which year.
‘Yah! I’ll agree to listen if Styles and Tomas are still
good. If they are still good then I’ll want to answer their
questions, and listen to them… and so begin the busting of the
DCC-made-with-UE, all knotted around, the rotted universal
Postmescic mind God pulsating core…’ Roger sneered. ‘Yah! I do
solemnly promise this much! Why wouldn’t I, when evil hurts, and
they promise to make me feel good again? HE! HE!! HA! HA!!’
IT all began to become so clear to him in his own/ed mind
alone. Roger understood IT all now. The forces inside of him,
and outside of him, needed that much time to work things out, so
the predetermined future, could become the irreversible reality
and history.
‘By then, you alone will see my spiritual empire on this
Earth coming into being. As the Postmescic mind God, I to must
now also bow to take the form of a mortal human, like you three!
You have no choice! Hand me the keys to your Ford station wagon
Robinson!’ he demanded.
HE, HE, HE WOULD HAVE HIS BIRTH/DAY CAKE, AND EAT OF IT TO…
He would discover and fulfill his own/ed Postmescic mind
God prophecy. If he failed to do so, then before he died, he
would give himself over to their will and direction, so they
could use their true mastery of the black Postmescic arts, and a
most advanced form of conscious decoding to help liberate
conscious-Roger, so he could be saved either way?
‘Styles! Give me the car keys!’ Robinson said.
The obedient Styles, without hesitation, fished the car
keys out of his pocket. Styles automatically handed them over to
Robinson. ‘This isn’t rite Roger! You are putting the whole
human World/life in jeopardy!’ Robinson wore gloves to protect
and hide his sensitive gnarled hands from society. Now his black
gloved hand held up the car-keys.
‘Not rite? So you laughable pigs say, only now that you see
I am finally physically here. I will do as I please!’
‘Which anniversary? Was Theresa telling the truth about
that? Was it the night, 4.10am, or the daytime, 12.39pm, May8th? Or was it your premature birth as a dead fetus from your
mother’s womb? Or seven months later your birth from the cold
spiritual Postmescic universal blueprint tomb as a full-grown
human baby, when you left out the first cry of a new born? If
this story of the unnatural birth is even true?’
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
480
‘You’re stalling and trying to buy yourself some time from
facing into your self-chosen hellish fate Robinson, you
hypocritical coward,’ said Roger. ‘You’ve been told the date in
question. Simple as that!’
Robinson began to start to talk again. He suddenly realized
Roger was not listening to him anymore. Roger might as well have
been deaf in both ears, for all the reaction Roger registered to
Robinson’s forthcoming words. Roger was now just still and
silent. Yet again Roger suddenly started to move forward like a
mindless machine. Obviously, now there would have to be a death
and destruction…
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
481
PART 5
(OF 5-PARTS)
Postmescic-Roger’s World/life objective had already been
decided upon. Now only the fated end result was left to secure
at any and all personal costs to him. IT had been decided, as
simple as that, and for no particular conscious reason either.
Knowing what just had to be done, and in terror of the so
alien Reason in Roger, Robinson pulled out his silver revolver
he had once used to play a one-sided game of Russian roulette
with the two FBI-Agents in the NO.21-house on Bishop Street. The
name Bishop Street reminded him of Howard Bishop left with a
stutter after Roger had beaten and all but sexually assaulted
Bishop back over even still operational RO-woe. Robinson felt he
might as well also suffer from a stutter now, for any hope of he
saying some final last departing words that would mean anything
worthwhile to anyone, including himself.
Not wishing to endure the so alien and savage Reason, and
knowing conscious-Roger had to be susceptible to suggestion,
because Roger was to self-judge the human World/life by in a
sense reflecting and self-mirroring the human World/life,
Robinson’s weakened hand trembled. He thumbed back the hammer on
his gun. He had to thumb twice. Fear caused his gloved thumb to
slip off the hammer during the first attempt.
Finally, Robinson ended up pointing the slightly titled
silver barrel at Roger Madican James. He thought of his love for
little Richard. This love reflected how every good father must
love their sons. Thus he could summon some last bit of strength
into his wasted frame. He could as a result stop himself from
collapsing in terror, or defecating, now that he knew all
earthly time had all but run out for George Ira Robinson born
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
482
1932, and only the truly mysterious unknown waited for him now,
and most likely the unknown was hell.
‘We can’t let you go Roger! Not until you tell us which
birth you are talking about! Night or daytime, from your mother,
or from the…’ An image flashed into Robinson’s mind of the
summer of 1959. He and Roger were down by a riverbank lined with
trees. Roger was walking in the sunshine and casting a fractured
and natural shadow. Yet, Robinson still didn’t know?
Roger backhanded Robinson across the face so hard,
Robinson’s cheekbone fractured. Robinson let out a whine.
Robinson began to urinate in his pants. Robinson watched on in
horror. Roger’s all black and dreamy Snake Eyes reflected such
furious
self-conviction
only
an
all-knowing
universal
Postmescic-mind-God, that had managed to recreate itself out of
a virtual nothingness, could know.
‘Go on then Robinson! Pull the trigger!’ Roger then looked
upon Robinson as a pathetic man. Robinson cowered as if he was
some eighty-year old. Robinson’s hand trembled so badly, the gun
moved up and down. Styles and Tomas could just stand there and
watch with their eyelids wide, and they unable to do a damned
thing to stop this. ‘Robinson! All knowing big shot! Look at him
now,’ Roger said to Styles and Tomas. ‘The big hero, urinating
in his pants, without the guts to fire his own/ed weapon at me,
for fear of disturbing the so carefully balanced Reason, stacked
so firm and tight within me! Cowering between his own/ed men, he
once dared to think he had the rite to give orders to, and
manipulate like he was Derek Styles or something! Cowering
before me, whom he dared to accuse of being a truly pathetic
moral weakling for the evil belief’s I’ve consciously cultivated
and accepted!’
Roger’s all seeing and all knowing Snake Eyes shone with
two bright pricks of alien light. IT was as if they were not so
much reflecting, but reenacting a memory of two primeval stars
in a black and desolate universe that had existed countless
billions of light-years from this place, and very close to where
the beginning of this universe had originally started to expand
out from.
‘Watch IT now big-shot Robinson!’ Roger slowly raised his
hand. ‘I’m going to be taking your loaded gun off of you now
Robinson! Stop me if you can! Last chance now! My hand is
getting real close to your gun! As soon as I leave you here dead
this World/life day, I’m going to get your family Robinson! Get
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
483
him and her one by one, and hurt he and she real bad! Look at
him now boys… Your great leader and adopted spiritual dream
father, the physical-healer turned want-a-be spiritual healer
Derek Styles… Unable to stop me… He’s in such fear of the
State/mind Postmescic/Embodiment-Reason-weaving/dreaming-hell!’
Roger grunted. With incredible speed and accuracy that
surely indicated Roger was working half in the spiritual past,
and half in the present, he abruptly uprooted the gun from
Robinson’s gloved hand. Without hesitation, Roger turned the gun
around. He aimed it at Robinson’s face.
‘Yah Robinson! Just like us good RO-orphans, and Silver
Springs Town folk always say of men like you… this joke house
has still got some conscious good in him! He then simply can’t
reflect back at us that he takes our back stage joke house
primal evil-mind-inspired trash drama seriously… and be selfentertained even by self-deconstructing back into evil instead
of evolving into an increasingly wiser and purer spiritual
conscious being… Kill the pig-lawman, and any excuse a good
enough excuse! …All rite Robinson… You don’t want to be a Human
Reason Victim? OK. I’ll agree to this, because I used to like
you once…’ At point blank range, Roger shot Robinson almost
exactly in the center of his face. Then there really was a loud
droning noise echoing and resounding throughout this IT’s entire
area.
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
484
20
(IN 4-PARTS)
PART 1
(OF 4-PARTS)
One instant, Styles and Tomas were standing on either side
of Robinson, their adopted spiritual dream father. Styles was
using his hands to hold Robinson’s elbow and forearm. This was
to ensure the stooped Robinson could remain standing, while
Robinson cowered and whined and urinated in his pants.
The next instant Robinson appeared to simply vanish from
sight. He was instantly blown backwards through the air. His
warm blood-splatter was left too cool on Styles’ cheek.
The
powerful
impact
of
the
silver
bullet-head
was
devastating. After punching straight through Robinson’s left
eyeball, the bullet-head hit the solid skull bone. It cracked it
open. The bullet casing had been filled with more gunpowder than
found in a store bought regular bullet. Robinson’s already
wasted cancer-riddled body was no match for such a powerful
round, striking after been fired at such close range. His corpse
was
effortlessly
spun
around,
even
as
his
corpse
was
simultaneously flipped rite on over, and onto his back, on the
soft green grass he had already urinated upon through his pants
cuffs. There was a large hole in his left eye socket. The bullet
had hooked into, and had driven his fleshy eyeball back into his
soft brain matter. The sheer trauma of the concussion forced his
rite eyeball to pop out of its socket while blood squirted.
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
485
He looked as spiritually blind in mortal death, as Roger
Madican James had always made Robinson feel he had been in
mortal World/life. The rite eyeball bounced and dangled on a
fleshy gut-like string of optic nerve over his cheek. IT somehow
caused Styles to think of the one-eyed monkey walking stick
Robinson had thought to make. All World/life that had animated
his facial features, betraying an internalized unique conscious
life force spirit, was instantly gone from the gaunt and
prematurely aged death mask. Skull particles were spread across
the grass. A fountain of blood hosed up into the air in silence.
It then just as quickly lost its momentum. The blood showered
back down all over the green grass. It splattered across
Robinson’s stiffened and agonized facial expression of terror,
forever now to be frozen on his ghastly gray face-until all
rotted away. His thin and wispy gray hair was soaked red in
places.
As if an omen no one had bothered to pay any heed to, the
blackbird jolted into flight. It arose from the recently erected
telephone wire. The only reaction Styles and Tomas were capable
of was to attempt to control their involuntary shock. They
stared at Robinson’s corpse. It was dead as dead and just like
that, as fast as two fingers and a thumb could be snapped.
Robinson’s Reason-brought cancer had reduced the giant to a
skinny and pathetic cripple before his natural World/life time.
Yet, Robinson had been a man who had always seemed so invincible
and courageous. Now, he was just another corpse self-testifying
to a man who’d been willing to die for his beliefs. All traces
of World/life and physical movement had been completely wiped
out of existence in a split second. Robinson then had been
reduced to so little, so fast. Robinson, the great-adopted
spiritual dream father so like Derek Styles to the two-orphaned
men, was long gone out of known existence.
Despite Styles and Tomas having had forewarning this had
been the intended CM;1-outcome, the reality came not so much as
a shock. But as a World/life-history-shattering moment that
reminded them IT really did fully exist, and the mortal universe
truly was a work of black magic. IT was in fact the dominant
force that really did run this mortal and most savage universewhere the most common law was survival of the fittest.
Postmescic-Roger stood very still and calmly. He held the
smoking murder weapon in his cold hand. He nodded as if nothing
much had happened. He then grunted, ‘you’re a ONE EYED-ROBINSON-
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
486
BLOOD-RED-/-DIAMOND-JACK/ED-BLADE…
DEMONIC
JOKER/POSTMESCIC
HELL’S OWN/ED STEREOTYPE/ROTTEN-RO-HEART/DEMONIC SPIRITUAL TIME
PEACEKEEPING TOY NOW, BY ALL-RITES, Robinson…
‘A REAL UNACCOUNTED-FOR WILD-JOKER-CARD… THROWN-OUT FROM,
AND
THEN
TRULY-LOST
FROM
THE-POSTMESCIC-WORLD/LIFEEVENT/CIRCUMSTANCE TAROT CARD DECK… WE USE TO PLAY THIS FINAL
DAMNATION GAME OF MINE OWN/ED MAKING ALONE… AND THUS A WILD CARD
PLAYED TOO SOON, AND LOST FOR NO-SO-VERY-EARTHLY-GAIN WHAT-SOEVER!
‘Man wasn’t ever playing with a full deck if you now ask
me…’
Styles focused on Robinson’s skinny arm. Back in May of
1961, the tight sleeve of the freshly self-resurrected-Roger’s
new RO-uniform had ensured the shirt cuff had been pulled back
far enough, to reveal the new alien scar tissues on Roger’s left
wrist. Now, Robinson’s fall from grace had ensured Robinson’s
overcoat sleeve had drawn back far enough to reveal enough of
Robinson’s forearm, to expose the ink-stained letters and
numbers that in their original typed-format would read…
TOP SECRET
FILE–R.I.P./UNEDIT
999
But now the 999 could be read as 666. IT was as if all the
three so-called good game playing men had succeeded in doing
with the file-R.I.P./unedit had been to write the real Devil’s
Bible. Just prior, and somehow then, to ensure universal
judgment day could finally come to pass… away.
‘What do you guys say, that I always say?’ Roger mused when
he read what was printed on Robinson’s forearm. ‘When World/life
event/circumstances inevitably change drastically enough… to
expose the true evil served by the majority through what was
once considered socially acceptable times of peace… and yet UE
meant to let conscious-humanity know rite from wrong by
communicating all negative reactions to all evil inspired works…
This means in this universe, everything can be taken as a sign,
reflecting a higher will, literally?
‘So what do you guys make out of this 666 then?’ Roger
grunted. He dismissed Styles and Tomas as yet two more demonic
joker/Postmescic
hell’s
own/ed
stereotype/rotten-RO-heart,
demonic spiritual clockwork horror time peacekeeping toy clowns,
powerless, no matter what conscious-decisions they made, but to
have to somehow end up ensuring only evil won the damnation
game. ‘But don’t you be worrying about explaining any of this to
little Richard, Styles, favorite adopted uncle of his,’ Roger
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
487
said cunningly. ‘Little Richard won’t be grieving for his father
for very long. I’ve wanted to get that little piglet, ever since
he was born… ever since I heard about his conception back over
even still operational RO-woe in that Saint’s stinking little
interrogation room-when Robinson was asking official questions
regarding someone… really crazy dead eye… steeling money from
his mother the Holy Rolling Mary…
‘Now, no less than little Richard’s own/ed father has given
me the rite to go get him free and legal… according to the socalled man made law of this still-here most particular land. If
you want the May-8th-deal we made-to-order, to remain sound, then
you can’t stop me. Neither can any other representative of the
so-called man made law of this most particular land?
‘Yes? Am I rite? Would IT be fair, if IT were only
strangers you have no personal connection to, I went after?
Where would be the point and fairness and fun in that? Everyone
who ever abused me or caused me to be hurt so effectively, I had
a personal connection to?’ He then looked back down at the mess
Roger had finally reduced Robinson to. Roger spat on the corpse.
‘I always told you! You would one day be mine George Ira
Robinson! Yet this guy talked about ways that could be used, to
get me to self-destroy myself, for the benefit of others? Yet,
you guys ever see me piss myself in the face of fear of death,
like some wild pig-cop sub human animal?
‘You think you’ve proved something to me here today CM;1style? Robinson died for nothing then! Be not another George Ira
Robinson boys… Don’t show up May-8th-1975…
‘Problem now I ensure for you, is that it is because of the
concept of consciousness itself, that you will all have to be
damned through me!’ The talk was enough to cause Roger to fall
into a Postmescic-induced-trance. Then Roger was not actually
speaking to the two Special Agents. He instead seemed to be
reciting words something in him was now dictating to him. ‘Yah…
Let’s dismantle them both then, bone from bone, rib from rib…
and see then who’s got the real power for self-resurrection… and
who then is the true Postmescic-mind-God who knows all spiritual
truths and irreversible laws… And who then is nothing but a dumb
pig sub human animal self-entertaining lofty delusions about
pure forces and Gods as facts… based only on reactionary
thinking and conscious decoding… based only on all of my so many
fruitful World/life works… These back stage joke house pig sub
human animals seem to like to think represents consciousness…
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
488
‘Jesus-needlessly and pointlessly dying on his cross in
order to screw up humanities thinking processes… these want a be
good guys are really the sinner enablers as much as the Catholic
church is!’ Roger slowly turned to focus on Styles and Tomas
with his all black and gleaming Snake Eyes. ‘Yah… IT’s been
decided, and as simple as that… and for no particular logical
conscious reason either… Next time I physically see you two I
will kill you for this so shabby World/life crime of my own/ed!
‘You fucking lied again, and so you’ll mortally and
spiritually die, Human Reason Victim-style!’ Roger’s pupils had
long since expanded all the way out of his irises, and even
through the whites of his eyes. Styles and Tomas were now faced
with orbs actually self-reflecting what was now being-remembered
in Roger’s dreaming Postmescic-mind-God…
Caged within the orbs, was an empty, bleak, lifeless but
evil dream-like destructive universe, where no fixed laws of
science and physics existed. By this stage in his World/life,
Roger’s mind had sunken all the way back to linking up with, and
being immersed within an instinctive and constantly reenacting
memory of the universal blueprint itself, cold spiritual
Postmescic
universal
blueprint
tomb-style.
For
finally
completely betrayed here, were the actual innards and internal
workings of the cold spiritual Postmescic universal blueprint
tomb. IT was the universal-blueprint breathing and shaping
ground, finally now fully self-grounded in Roger.
The buttons on Roger’s dirt-caked shirt were undone. As if
agitated and disturbed by an unseen hand, the shirt fell open to
reveal Roger’s self-inflicted wounds and yet self-healed scar
tissues. Only a mere hour ago at 11.39AM, Roger had been brought
back to mortal-World/life so he could crawl out of his own/ed
self-dug makeshift unhallowed grave pit. But the spiritual rage
Roger had invited into his conscious-self, through his act of
killing Robinson, was now so great, Roger was finally accepting
so much of the Postmescic-mind-God within, Roger’s entire human
body was going into chaos due to the immense spiritual pressure
and self-induced trauma of IT all.
‘You were warned you play with blackest spiritual fire,’
Roger grinned. ‘And have no concept of the works you dare to
dabble within! Suck you all down… for good!’
Roger was not mortally dead. Yet the Reason was coming
alive again. In killing Robinson, Roger had helped send the last
trace of goodness in his conscious self to the spiritual
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
489
dreaming death forces within the cold spiritual Postmescic
universal blueprint tomb. Now, as the Postmescic mind God used
this given World/life opportunity to firmly fit itself to
Roger’s human body, and the universal blueprint arose outwards,
all around Roger-all scientific and physical laws that governed
this IT’s area of this IT’s made-Earth, were beginning to fall
asunder and bend before his defiant will.
‘There are no physical universal laws that were not IT’s
original invention,’ said Roger as if by way of unnecessary
explanation. Roger’s abdominal scar tissues began to twitch and
shimmer. Then they jerked and heaved violently. The softening
scar tissues began to rent apart. There was the sickening sound
of flesh and skin tearing as the black-Postmescic-arts-magic
flesh retreated into a foul and pus-like mucus element.
The skin flaps parted like a pair of black and rotten lips.
IT was as if the same unseen hand that had parted the shirt, was
now at work on Roger’s bare torso. As those rotten abdominal
flaps parted, they revealed what only appeared to be new and
fresh wounds. Rather than old wounds once healed so many
World/life years ago, now reopened. This reversal process
generated a rank stench of decay and of a smoky spiritual
element, impossible to define. Except perhaps by describing IT
as having something to do with mortal sins and rotted mortal
flesh, but which arose to self-pollute the atmosphere with
swarming black particles. The particles appeared to imprint
themselves onto the very fabric of the World/life reality
itself, rather than merely swarm in the air all around Roger.
These particles made the World/life-section Styles and
Tomas viewed look more like one great, big, cheap and tacky
scene in a B-movie forced through the projector one time too
many. Until after excessive wear and tear the film projected a
smudged image freckled with black blotches, so embedded, that
the original World/life scene filmed could never again be
restored to its cheap, badly acted, but original glory.
Whatever IT was that had just exuded out of Roger, smelt
just like what the blackened dead in the gas station must have
smelt like back in August of 1964. There was even a whiff of the
Saint’s body odor amidst decay. Almost as if their psychic and
spiritually dead UEs had plucked the inspiration for the image
straight from the airs, both Styles and Tomas simultaneously
self-conceived of the horrific image that IT was Robinson’s
damned spirit hand tearing open Roger. So Robinson could finally
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
490
view the hidden universal truth that he had died for, and that
he had sold his damned soul to.
By now the wounds in Roger were so wide that the hellish
Reason that resided within Roger was all but fully exposed. IT
was throbbing and swelling, and then receding, before beginning
to swell and throb again, as if breathing.
‘What was IT you said to Tomas back in May of 1961,
Styles?’ Styles heard Roger’s distance voice ask. ‘You wished IT
had been you down in the D-Block,-‘61 self-slaughterhouse,
instead of Tomas? Should have been more careful what you wished
for Styles? When I answer all of a man’s darkest dreams that can
advance my cause!’ Within the wounds Roger had self-inflicted on
himself countless World/life years ago, reenacted, Styles and
Tomas could actually see a whole inner World/life of Reasonworks, at work in Roger. They contrasted with the raw and crisp
daylight.
The ambitious Reason, not self-satisfied with just warping
the surrounding World/life daylight, was now at work pulling
asunder all the fixed universal laws of science and physics in
operation around, and inside of Roger the man. IT was doing so
to allow for the forthcoming vision.
IT looked to Styles and Tomas that the egotist Postmescicmind-God was recreating within Roger’s human body, an accurate
replica of only, and all, that IT believed was worthy of selfcontemplation and self-fascination? The Postmescic mind God’s
very own/ed dreaming universal-throne, and the place of IT’s
original spiritual death that had existed prior physical and
structured universal creation just born? Given IT had been
Robinson’s murder that had ensured conscious-Roger could achieve
this higher and elevated state of Postmescic-mind-God… and given
the dead Robinson had collapsed as an inanimate hunk of dead
meat before the laws of gravity, as much as the laws of science
and physics were collapsing all around Roger’s wounds, as the
alien particles expanded outside of the confines of Roger’s
human body in order to dominate the external World/life
landscape… IT felt to Styles and Tomas that the Postmescic mind
God was adding insult to injury. IT was now mocking them as IT
stood over Robinson’s corpse, and put on this vulgar and
extravagant show of ultimate power for the two Special Agents.
After the elation of witnessing yet another defiant human so
quickly dispatched into complete ruin, the Postmescic mind God
did this for no other reason, but the opportunity to show
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
491
through
IT’s
Postmescic-mind-God
almighty
power,
what
insignificant, laughable truest nothing nobody, no ones the
Postmescic mind God believed the two FBI Special Agents to be.
Also, how IT would kill them to, at a whim, whenever IT felt the
desire. Until then, they would have to live and suffer for the
evil of other humans, and only because this rotten RO-Culture
status quo amused IT so.
Exposed here was the knotted rotted black pulsating
universal spiritual Postmescic mind God heart. IT was now
exposed, for the arrogant Postmescic mind God no longer cared
who saw what or when, for the Postmescic mind God was selfconvinced this was the last age of simply all. IT was then
simply too late for the humans to change anything for the
better. As such all Styles and Tomas would get from others if
they tried to change anything, were even more abuse and hatred
and insults and lies, and as such they would know yet more
suffering.
THIS IS WHAT TRUTH YOU TWO, SHALL FACE UPON THE FINAL
MORTAL WORLD/LIFE HOUR, ALL OUT AND ABOUT THE OPEN! Roger
somehow self-implied. He seemed to chuckle. Yet his white, dirtstained death mask did not move a fraction.
The shifting, deep, raging, yet brooding Reason dark was
even now, even in this tiny form, compacted and full of an
immense and Postmescic-mind-God-like spiritual knowledge. The
Postmescic mind God brooded over this self-contained Reason
knowledge, like a witch over the swirling brew in her witch’s
cauldron-she used to summon black-arts-magic to influence the
course of future World/life event/circumstances. Some of the
Postmescic-mind-God–like knowledge IT exuded from itself, as IT
strove to keep IT’s own/ed nightmare historic dreams alive in
this IT’s walking Roger-corpse vessel, was simply too vast for
IT to keep safely caged from human absorption.
UE acted as the spiritually dead medium that communicated
the spiritual knowledge in reaction to IT on display. Though for
now the knowledges were so vast Styles and Tomas might be
incapable of making conscious sense out of IT, Styles for one
would not retreat. He was sure at a later date he could use
retrospection to learn all about IT’s true nature and plans.
But for now, Styles only knew his UE was in worship with
what his own/ed UE recognized as the one and only true
Postmescic-mind-God, whose image his UE had been fashioned in.
While eyeing the knotted rotted black pulsating universal
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
492
Postmescic mind God heart structured in Roger, for now, in his
ignorance, conscious-Styles could only feel powerless to do
anything but picture the photographs of the dead Human Reason
Victims unnaturally interfered with remains.
Styles was so lost, he failed to notice Tomas’ absence.
Tomas had long since retreated back across the field. Unlike
Tomas and Robinson, this was the first time Styles had seen IT
exposed all out in the open, in the full light of day. IT was
only now that he faced IT that Styles could comprehend why
Robinson and Tomas had ended up so spiritually crippled. Also,
why they had been so close to unconscious hate and rage and
despair and the desire to punish and take revenge that at times
in the face of negative and totally indifferent and uncaring
people they had often failed to think coherently. Instead, they
had started to curse and rant and rave about the State/mind
Postmescic/Embodiment-hell that awaited all of the wicked at the
end of the dramatic World/life-line.
Equally,
Styles
understood
why
most
people
would
instinctively blurt out that Styles was a born conscious-fool to
believe in conscious good, the soul, the IG, the Inora-mind-God
and the nation of the pure Gods.
Finally, Styles understood why so called madmen could rise
to seat themselves as dictators with only one aim in mind, to
drag all of humanity down into as much all out bloody war and
self-destruction as was humanly possible, in a bid to kill as
many of the pig human animals as possible. They tried to do so
even if they themselves also had to be personally destroyed.
Styles saw in this thing the true force and face of evil
human history. Styles saw in the face of this IT’s so personal
thing, how evil could be a more powerful force than the forces
of good could ever hope to be! In his great despair, defeatism
and new understanding, Styles wished he had never been mortal
born. Yet, even so, he still knew the World/life would be a lot
worse off, if he had never been born, so he decided even now to
continue with his plan to improve things for the better, no
matter what the personal cost, given he was in fact alive, so
he’d best do the best he could with what little time he did
have. He truly understood this in the face of his murdered
adopted spiritual dream father, and the threat of death from
Postmescic-Roger. In the face of impending death, all of human
society and IT’s beliefs lost all hold over him. In the face of
death, he felt utterly alone and left to fend for the self-
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
493
alone, totally separated and isolated from everything and
everybody else, for he knew no one or no one thing, not even his
own human body, could or would help or save him now if
Postmescic-Roger decided to kill him. He felt to be as good as
held prisoner as an isolated and scared and frightened conscious
life force spirit in his very own/ed skull, that would ensure he
died if Postmescic-Roger now put a bullet into it. Yet the
Paradox was, that understanding just how humiliating the act of
physically dying was, and just how in the face of death he could
believe in nothing at all, other than he existed as a totally
isolated
and
lone
intellect
amidst
what
was
utterly
incomprehensible, he could therefore also see that to live a
life of a sinner, or a sinner-enabler, who tried to join in with
RO-Culture and thrive there, was far more a humiliating concept
on his death bed, than actually dying was. The whole human
World/life and its ways of thinking and acting seemed so utterly
pathetic to him now, he only knew one small merci at the end,
and this merci was that at least in his World/life he had tried
his best to be a good man who did his best to improve everything
for all, and to be as honest as he could be at all times. Quiet
frankly, now, at the very end, all alone and utterly isolated
like a prisoner in a holding cell awaiting execution, he would
rather now go to Postmescic Reason Hell than have lived a life
when he had tried to ensure RO-Culture succeeded, for finally
now at the end, looking within Postmescic Roger, he finally
comprehended just how utterly worthless and pathetic and evil
RO-Culture was.
‘So be IT,’ a deep but eerily familiar voice said.
Styles was so lost he failed to register the significant
and so decisive words. Styles was becoming self-convinced he
stood no chance of handling this thing come May-8TH-1975? When
Styles and Tomas showed up an hour before Roger’s authentic
mortal death as a genuine human being, to close the deal
Robinson had died to ensure could be created here this May-8th1972-day… A mere three World/life years from now… Yet he would
have to be by then self-trained, self-prepared, self-educated,
self-styled and ready enough, and even know as much about all
spiritual laws as Robinson might after going onto the next
World/life and remaining good even in the face of even hell, if
Styles was to safely close the May-8TH-1975-deal?
Never before had Styles understood just what backbone it
had taken Tomas and Robinson to show up here this IT’s big
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
494
morning of revelation? Yet, it was the fact that Styles had not
just been told, but had also had his conscious soul reinforce
the fact as good as a fact divined directly from the Inora mind
God, that he was one of the three good Players, that helped him
to now continue to simply stand his soul-testing ground. He
simply endured, despite every last particle of his physical,
emotional, spiritual being and unconscious mind he was conscious
of, now driving him beyond his ability to rationalize, or to
feel otherwise, that evil was the one and only true Postmescic
mind God of all? Evil then, had to some day soon simply win over
all that is, could be, and was?
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
495
PART 2
(OF 4-PARTS)
‘O Jesus, and his Mother Of Mercy, who art in heaven!’
Tomas whined the name of the pure God he had been taught since
birth to believe in, and to associate his conscious soul with,
as he backed away in absolute soul-destroying terror. He looked
at Styles. He understood Styles had not heard Roger say the
words that self-signified Styles was now to be taken to, so IT
would be as if Styles had never been mortal born. That could
only mean one thing for sure. There would be complete Reason
self-unraveling of Styles’ conscious life force spirit. All of
spiritual evolution and every last incarnation it had required
to come to exist in the present day moment, would be reversed
back into ultimate nothingness.
‘Get out now Styles! Or we’re both as good as finished…
Both of us, as good as dead and gone, too much worse! There’ll
be no May-8th-deal closure day for us two, then… The whole
World/life as good as gone… It’s the D-Block,-‘61 selfslaughterhouse all over again… I knew I could never escape IT!
IT has come back for me… Come straight back from the past, to
claim me in the present… Just as I always knew IT one day would…
When IT was alert enough to realize that I had escaped IT once,
but only through chance and sheer dumb luck alone!’
‘I’m the only one who can find the Reasoning to my self and
become IT!’ Roger said both coldly and lifelessly. IT was
obvious Roger was reciting the words that would self-encourage
the state of mind to form that was necessary for him to so
successfully self-receive a Human Reason Victim/true-Postmescicself-sacrifice. Due to his mortal sin of murder, Roger had
tasted, and had smelt Robinson’s so very human and so mortal
blood. Now he wanted more, as if his thirst for human blood
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
496
could ever be self-quenched until he was all consumed by
absolute spiritual self-corruption.
Roger began to walk towards Styles. Roger still tightly
grasped the smoking revolver in his death grip. The old bulletdented, and by-now rusted manacle covered in makeshift grave
earth, was still secured to his rite ankle.
‘Styles… What in Postmescic-mind-God’s name are you doing,
you maniac? Are you crazy? Styles, get a grip on your
independent sense of conscious-self… Root back into reality…
Ground yourself! Don’t simply self-detach from everyone and
everything… Styles!’ Tomas shouted. Then, when Tomas saw…
O SWEET FAVORED AND MOST BELOVED SON OF THE INORA MIND GOD,
STYLES!!!
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
497
PART 3
(OF 4-PARTS)
‘We made to order a deal, in and through you… the May-8TH1975-deal!’ Styles stood his soul-testing ground. Defiantly, he
challenged the Postmescic-Roger Madican James game playing man.
Styles tried to force from his mind his memory of Robinson
saying that back in August-1964, in the underground jailhouse,
Roger had also made a similar promise to the B4-prisoner, Keith
Anderson. Roger had said Keith would not die that day, or would
at the very least, be the last to die of the many human victims
that day. Not long after Roger had shot Keith stone dead before
many of the other lawmen down there in the underground jailhouse
too, had gone down.
According to Robinson, Roger had shot Keith, just for the
fun of seeing Keith, registering the promise Roger had made to
him, Keith’s last hope and all Keith had, had left to keep his
conscious sanity in tact, had been broken and by Roger himself.
IT had not been enough for Roger to kill Keith’s physical body.
Roger had wished to kill Keith’s spirit too?
Yet when Roger had first made the promise to Keith, only
the hobo, Roger and Keith had been in the underground jailhouse?
Maybe Roger then had told the truth, because both Roger and the
hobo had faced death before Keith Anderson had?
The truth was that Styles believed in his gut that whenever
you dealt with real evil, and no matter what you did, you
eventually got burned, and cheated, or were forced to suffer in
some major way.
‘Robinson had to die to close the May-8TH-1975-deal! You
promised us Roger! You made a solemn promise to us! Remember now
Roger… Remember how you wrote down in some schoolwork back over
even still operational RO-woe, if one mediates, one’s entire
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
498
sense of conscious-self melts away. Then there is simply nothing
but peace and calm. One simply exists without any motivations or
thoughts… Break the DCC-made-with-UE-holding you to IT’s-mind…’
At a slow and unfaltering pace, Roger kept on walking
towards Styles. Roger looked like an animated but lifeless
corpse that was machine-like in IT’s creaky movements, and
controlled by some force using unseen wires.
Styles was so consciously ignorant of IT’s true nature, he
could not even self-determine what state of either mortal death,
or World/life, Roger was really in. The bullet-dented manacle
secured to Roger’s rite ankle, was so rusted and covered in
unhallowed grave-earth, it couldn’t even gleam in the morning
sunlight. Styles remembered Dobbin had stolen the manacle’s twin
from the evidence room. By now Dobbin was also long dead by his
own/ed willful hand, and due to some crazy deal he’d thought
he’d made with IT? Rather than admit he’d only made a deal with
his own/ed insane self, as way of trying to self-justify his
future evil actions down here on the IT’s-self-made mortal Earth
that could and did benefit IT alone and never Dobbin?
There was a death-grin frozen on Roger’s milk-white and
earth-soiled face. There was no discernable trace of World/life
or conscious humanity left in his black and oily Snake Eyes. His
Snake Eyes betrayed only the dream-like dark that was clearly a
self-reflection of the Postmescic mind God’s most ancient and
coveted instinctive memory, still in construction, of the flux
universal blueprint? And yet which gave IT immense influence
over this IT’s little earthly World/life scene?
Once, the dull alien shine in Roger’s Snake Eyes had not
reflected off anything in the external World/life. But now that
the alien particles were swarming outside of, and all around
Roger, and warping the natural makeup of everything in their
wake, that gleam seemed to be reflected left, rite and center by
the alien particles. The combined reflected specks selfconspired to cause the air to appear to burn with blackest
spiritual hell fire. IT was as if Roger was on fire with a
spiritual aura. This generated the fear in Styles that Roger was
threatening to wrench an entire World/life-section back into
him, and leave in its place a giant gaping and sucking black
hole/void.
‘IT IS YOU WHO ARE TO BE THE BLACK-POSTMESCIC-ARTS-MAGIC
HOLE/VOID… FINE HUMAN REASON VICTIM SPECIMEN… IN EXCHANGE FOR
YOUR CHEAP ACTOR/SALESMAN’S-ACT OF DEFIANCE!’
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
499
Still, Styles refused to budge an inch from his soultesting ground. ‘You promised us Roger! You made a heart-felt
promise to us! You felt it all the way back to the essential
cornerstone of your conscious spiritual, and physical being! An
hour before you die as a mortal man you said… Your hour of
greatest need as a genuine human being, then dying… You told us
the time to arrive, 11.39AM May-8TH-1975… Three whole years from
now!’
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
500
PART 4
(OF 4-PARTS)
‘Inora mind God Styles!’ Tomas was shouting frantically
from the distance-where he nonetheless did not feel any safer.
Way back from Styles and Roger, Tomas was standing close to the
trees that lined one of the field sides. ‘Inora mind God Styles!
Get the hell away from him! Have you totally lost your conscious
mind and the real World/life plot predefined file-R.I.P./edited
style! Can’t you even see he isn’t human anymore! You always
said IT should have been you down in D-Block,-’61! Not me! But
now is not the time Styles, for you to look into IT, searching
for spiritual knowledge that represents the truth of the
mechanics that lead to the makeup of IT’s self-resurrected
identity! Now is not the time to simply give up and wish to
spiritually die CM;2-style, just because you can finally begin
to realistically comprehend just how evil, evil really is…
‘With this thing on the lose out in the human World/life
and free of the so-called man made laws of this still-here most
particular land, there’ll be plenty of future Human Reason
Victims to account for that so sick desire… CM;1-style-Human
Reason Victims if you will… Remember how we defined them fileR.I.P./unedit style… This is not the time for trying any CM;2World/Life-History-Puzzle-busting garbage either… That’s to be
done where you’re locked away, at least physically safe, but not
spiritually safe, to act the part…
‘Styles! Remember what you said about the saying for evil
to thrive, let good men do nothing… Yet if good men do nothing,
then they are not good!
‘Yet if the twelve apostles didn’t have faith Christ had to
die, so sins may be forgiven, and they tried to stop Christ been
crucified… and the Romans killed them all… there’d have been no
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
501
new testament given by firsthand eyewitnesses to his World/life
and miraculous works?’
‘Shut up Tomas!’ Styles shouted. ‘This is not the time for
any sinner-enabling crap, invented by a bunch of peasants who
couldn’t face the so very real evil they allowed to happen
before realizing just how evil, evil really is, and in trying to
make amends, made everything only worse! Anyway, if Jesus Christ
ever came back to this World/life and discovered what sinnerenabling crap people had written about him, he’d throw a damned
fit!’ He never once looked away from Roger. ‘I’m not moving, so
I can be sure we really do have a deal for May-8th-1975! If we
don’t, IT’s all as good as already over, anyway, and there’s no
point!’
‘Styles!’ Tomas shouted. ‘Can’t you see what he/IT-finallycombined, is doing to you? Look at his left hand Styles! His
left hand is rising! Look down Styles! Forget those Snake Eyes,
and darkly gaping unnatural universal blueprint wounds of his…
Roger’s hand is rising to grab you, so you can’t ever get away
from him! He’s hypnotizing you… Can’t you see that’s all he is
now! Run away while you still can! Forget Robinson! Robinson
died, because he was crazy! Look at Roger’s ankle, Styles! For
Postmescic mind God’s sake, Roger’s still got that bullet-dented
manacle secured to his rite ankle. Roger lay with it under the
ground for eight World/life years. He never thought much about
it! He’s only been waiting all of this IT’s World/life time, for
us to show up here, like the born-Postmescic-conscious-toolfools we are, stupid enough to disturb him, and set World/life
event/circumstances
up
just
rite
with
our
damned
fileR.I.P./unedit… And so he can get back out there, with free
reign, unrestricted and freed from persecution by any and all
representatives of all human-made laws of the land… And as such
will be physically free to do what he wishes, and is necessary
for him to do… IT’s all been just one big black Postmescic arts
magic trick of misdirection played on us… Until we were left
spellbound due to what we only liked to believe was our own/ed
cunning!’
The defiant Styles stood his soul-testing ground. Instead
of listening to Tomas’ RO-Culture inspired advice, he did the
very opposite. He was sure the nation of the pure Gods would
wish him to do as such in their absence. He looked back down at
the horrific wound in Roger’s abdomen Styles had temporarily
adverted his eyes from. Styles noted Roger’s milk-white dead
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
502
hand rising up from Roger’s side. The cracked and broken
fingernails were filled with unhallowed grave dirt. The hand was
by now a cold corpse’s claw. IT was about to close around
Styles’ wrist. Given this was a hand that had once had the
strength to pull out a barred cell-window from a jailhouse wall,
once Roger got hold of Styles, Styles was as good as over,
spiritual evolution put into such quick reverse. Until yet
another self-named spiritual error was removed from the Inora
reincarnation processes and the spiritual residue/waste selfmanufactured
from
these
instinctual-processes,
added
to
Postmescic-IT-all.
Roger’s stench of death and decay self-enveloped Styles.
Roger’s cold spiritual Postmescic universal blueprint tomb dark
extended outside of him. IT finally darkened Styles’ shivering
form into a silhouette.
‘Robinson once loved you conscious-human being-Roger, when
you were free of IT’s so wicked and underhanded influence!
Robinson loved you so much when you were a kid, and looked after
you, and only had your very best interests at heart! And you
killed him! Shot him down in cold blood. You made a promise to
us to self-justify your ghastly crime? Was the crime then
committed really so the evil purpose could prosper and
everything else just an excuse?’ For once Styles didn’t have the
guts to say all that he really wished to say… IT was a truly
cowardly and pathetic crime of a truest and most pathetic moral
weakling. ‘The promise that we, Tomas and I, could come for you
an hour before your death on May-8TH-1975… Your hour of greatest
need when you are finally dying for real as an authentic mortal
human being… That’s three years time Roger… Three… Three
World/life years is all we ask of you now, to prove Robinson was
rite CM;1-style to believe all that is of truly good
consciousness, can always find a way to completely overcome and
defeat IT all of anti-consciousness… Is even that short
World/life time-period too long, for you to wait to take me?
‘Mortally/physically dying for real is what you’ve always
feared the most as a conscious being? Even if you deny IT nowdue to what possesses you and convinces independent consciousyou there is only an evil God who rewards evil and punishes
good…
‘Best have us there that May-8th-day with you, to both
comfort and support you… Just in case you can no longer give IT
your humanity… Give us that… Three World/life years… and then
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
503
punish us, in direct proportion to our failure… in regard to our
moral and spiritual self-bankruptcy… or award us in direct
proportion to our success, in regard to spiritual purity and
wisdom…’
‘If Robinson loved me so much, why did he sent me into RO?
No! Just one is now required!’ Roger grinned. He exhaled his
rank breath into Styles’ face. ‘Weakest one is best…’
‘O Inora-mind-God!’ Styles prayed aloud. He shut his
eyelids against the invading alien cold and dark freckles
blistering the very air and causing his whole physical body to
shiver. Yet strangely, the cold was also enough to highlight his
calm soul. It was presently again back behind his conscious
mind, pulsating out sensations of purity and goodness. ‘You made
the promise to the two of us… Tomas and I, both! Robinson meant
a lot to us too! He was as good as our adopted spiritual dream
father…’
‘Illusion all… You thought at a deeper level he was Derek
Styles is all… There was no Robinson left awake then in the
salesman/actor up upon ITs self-spun World/life-stage…
‘Just one!’ Roger said quietly. He tugged the car-keys from
Styles’ trembling fingers. Styles was on the verge of fainting
away. ‘Just one pair!’
Styles opened his eyelids. He turned around to see Roger
Madican James had never been coming towards him to reach for
him, at all. Roger had in fact been going for the keys to the
Ford station wagon, Styles had been holding. Roger had also been
looking down at Robinson’s fallen corpse. It appeared Roger was
going to stay true to his word after all. So much for RO-Culture
critic Tomas’ gut feeling governed by UE inspired mental vomit
on the subject.
‘Just one,’ Roger whispered with a crooked grin on his dead
and wasted and filthy human face. He knelt down. He grasped hold
of Robinson’s jacket label. Roger grinned at the ugly fractured
craters in Robinson’s face. IT was as if Roger thought the
wounds reflected a hidden, but immense and timeless beauty in
Postmescic Mother Nature. IT surfaced to mark the truth of how
special each unique mortal-death truly was in his mind. That he,
as that Postmescic force of Mother Nature, intended to always
remember, and to reflect back upon, near forever more. Given all
filth of mortality could reinforce DCC-made-with-UE.
Looking at the wounds in Robinson’s corpse, Roger appeared
to ache with longing like another man might ache sexually for a
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
504
beautiful woman. ‘Just one for now! Closest, and morally weakest
human out there, is the best one to take next… Given the
Reason’s requirements for a good Human Reason Victim, CM;1style… as defined file-R.I.P./unedit style,’ the near hypnotic
Roger said as if in a Postmescic-mind-God induced trance.
Roger pulled back Robinson’s jacket label. He removed
Robinson’s pair of standard handcuffs Robinson kept in a leather
pouch clipped to his belt.
‘I won’t need the keys for the handcuffs,’ Roger muttered.
He rose to his feet. He turned around in order to face Styles.
Again, IT seemed that Roger wasn’t even conscious of what he was
saying. The words were just somehow coming out of his human
mouth, without any conscious self-awareness.
Tomas looked on from the edge of the blood soaked fieldside, where Tomas stood in front of a line of trees. He had his
gun drawn. He had the hammer cocked back. He had this weapon
aimed and ready to be fired. Nonetheless, it was with an
arrogance that only a Postmescic mind God could ever know, that
Roger next said, ‘I won’t need the keys to these handcuffs… For
my next Human Reason Victim won’t be surviving after I handcuff
her and spiritually Reason-chain her! Yes, I think IT is a she!
‘You understand what I am saying, Styles! Be IT on your
own/ed head! This IT’s most particular good guy will stand by
and allow Reason evil occur in the name of good… There can be no
interference from you, your Government, and your pathetic
representatives of your truly pathetic and so limited manmade
laws of this still-here most particular land… Not until May-8TH1975 at least… No matter who dies out there! Or what I decide
to-do, and give rise to, out there! Otherwise, the May-8th-deal
we made-to-order, will be null and void. You then will have
proved you have then resorted to mindless brute force… because
of your failure to understand what you now claim you are capable
of understanding… because you believe the nation of the pure
Gods never intended IT to run all human World/life down here
upon IT’s self-spun/self-made-Earth into constant states of
self-corruption and self-destruction and self-punishment… and a
pure soul should have the blind fate to truly reject all works
of Postmescic mortality… Sinners all…
‘You see Styles? I know exactly what you and Robinson were
thinking
when
you
made
your
proposals
in
the
fileR.I.P./unedit!’
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
505
Styles couldn’t be sure. Roger’s mostly dead human face was
not very expressive. Yet Roger did appear to sneer as he glanced
at the ink stains on Robinson’s forearm that read…
666
Styles had to wonder if the only reason he was still
mortally alive, was because Roger needed him and Tomas to go to
the government on Roger’s behalf, to ensure Roger could be in a
legal position to go on killing out there in the World/life?
Until May-8th-1975 came to pass, without having to endure any
interference by the representatives of the so-called man made
law of the land? For Roger wished to serve a higher evil
authority, Postmescic-mind-God-style?
‘Now, you continue to insist Robinson was rite in his CM;1styled-beliefs… Then so to must you know, you have to let me go
free, to be self-trusted to live my mortal World/life rite on my
own/ed terms, amidst the human sinners all… What would jail or
the madhouse do for me anyway, but make me even worse? So you
can then ultimately prove what you believe by saving consciousme… Nothing but a Postmescic possessed and driven conscious
mind!’ Roger chuckled. He finally managed to register what he
was actually saying. ‘And IT doesn’t matter if I now go on to
prove your every last conscious conviction about me wrong! You
want to show up, to try to close the May-8TH-1975-deal? Then you
alone must continue to believe, even when I clearly don’t!
Believe, no matter what you are forced to witness and endure…
The responsibility finally taken out of my hands and put into
yours…
‘Yah, if anything will, that’ll help you with your… What
was IT again you made up, when no pure God showed up to offer
you peace of mind… and you needed to cover up for your
humiliation, and pain, and evil, and ignorance of IT all?’ Roger
stiffened. IT was as if he was listening for a distant sound in
his left deaf ear, where the ancient past would now be
communicated under the guise of IT being something to do with
the present. ‘O yes… That ancient and most foul and contrary law
you like to imagine is of the nation of the pure Gods own/ed
making… O yes… Help him with his CM;2-World/Life-History-Puzzlebusting business!
‘Ha! Like any of these pig-humans could ever stand such a
CM;2-Puzzle-trial THROUGH THE MEANS OF A DCC-MADE-WITH-UE CM;2SALESMAN/ACTOR’S
ROPE…
THE
BODY-OF-UE-MIND’S
REACTIONARY
THINKING INFORMATION MEANT TO SPIRITUALLY-HANG THE ONCE PURE AND
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
506
UNSULLIED CONSCIOUS LIFE FORCE SPIRIT, AS A ROTTEN-RO-HEART
IDENTITY without first going bad! And even if you succeed to
consciously grasp all of UE… and within the process glean
knowledge of all evil spiritual laws UE is the instinctive sum
of, so you’ll know how to deal with IT… you’ll surely go bad
afterwards, and fall to Postmescic-mind-God self-corruption…’
Slowly, Styles nodded his head. He tried his best not to
throw up his breakfast in revulsion of the so, so mortal stench.
IT had to come from the foundational-core-building-block-works
of the mortal-universal-engine. He thought of the horror Roger’s
next
basically
file-R.I.P./unedit/Post/man
and
governmentsanctioned CM;1-Human Reason Victim would have to face, now that
Styles had basically given Postmescic-Roger a SO VERY HUMAN
GOVERNMENT SANCTIONED LICENSE TO KILL INDISCRIMINATELY… AS
POSTMESCIC-ROGER SAW FITTING… OR EVEN AT A WHIM WHEN HE WAS
BORED OUT THERE AND LOOKING TO BE SELF-ENTERTAINED… and only the
counter/-made-to-/measure CM;1-put in place in Roger’s psyche to
stop IT from happening again and again as if for time without
end? In reality, perhaps the CM;1-Robinson-self-styled-handiwork
would only ensure even greater pain and suffering out there…
Robinson was dead. Now the new headman Post/man-Styles bore
all responsibility for any future action Postmescic-Roger
undertook in this IT’s human World/life. Styles alone would bare
all responsibility until the very end of Styles’ mortal
World/life. Even then IT was most probable IT would not end, and
Styles would continue on after his mortal death to bare all
responsibility in the great unknown.
Roger stiffened again. He cocked his left deaf ear. IT was
as if he was again receiving a deeply personal and ancient
message… ‘So you know what?’ Roger said. ‘Yah! I’ve just decided
for sure, then! Just like that, and for no real particular
conscious reason or logic either… I’m going to let you and Tomas
live until May-8TH-1975. Yah, that would be good for me,’ Roger
muttered. He turned away from Robinson’s fallen corpse-he had so
mercilessly killed. ‘To laugh at whatever answers you come up
with… You know that within a day, someone else out there is
going to die, CM;1-Reason-style, instead of you! You think that
is fair Styles? That you are somehow more important, and somehow
better, then, than others? Ha! What an arrogant little yellowfaced, two-faced, sneak-funky-joke house you truly are… lofty,
prancing, dancing, so stylish, self-styled lord… You like to
think this, don’t you? And yet even one time, has any pure
FILE-R.I.P/EDITED, BOOK TWO OF THREE BOOKS
507
spiritual force/God’s-true will chosen to intervene in your
World/life to give you a helping hand… and as such prove you are
looked upon more favorably than any other guy out there-not
given a helping hand? Of course not!
‘But I like the sick humor of IT all… IT’s to my taste… You
hear that Tomas… Never given a helping hand… Silver bullet
style! Such as the bullet that killed Robinson stone dead… As
such, come May-8TH-1975, you’ll have the worst death of all
Styles. All torments all of my Human Reason and natural murder
victims suffer from now till May-8TH-1975, are to be all visited
upon you two, when you fail…’
Styles merely did what he had always intended to do, this
IT’s day. Slowly, he nodded his head in acceptance. For he knew
he had no other choice, or any rite to consider his own/ed sense
of self during any of this. Given the Inora-mind-God had chosen
him to represent a good Player, out of all humans alive on the
planet Earth today, his only responsibility was to do the very
best job he could, and while he could. At the end of the May-8thday, if Styles failed, then everyone and everything ended up
dead anyway.
Chuckling quietly to himself, Roger turned away. He caught
sight of Tomas staring wide-eyed at him. Tomas had fled across
the grass. Tomas stood close to the trees lining the field’s
boarder. Tomas held his gun with the hammer cocked back and the
weapon ready to fire. No doubt he was remembering at some level
how the Reason had tried to kill him both physically and
spiritually down in the D-Block,-‘61 self-slaughterhouse, and
then how after he’d associated the spiritual/physical attempted
murder with the torture RO-Culture had even then insisted on
putting him through, only in a less diluted way. Could Tomas
then manage to pull the trigger on his gun aimed to kill, if
Roger actually made a move to kill him? Did Tomas even have IT
in him at all?
‘Boo!’ Roger unexpectedly said. Tomas flinched, but failed
to raise or even fire his weapon. ‘Come to me May-8TH-1975 Tomas!
And just see what you’ll find waiting there for you!’ Roger
walked past Tomas.
Tomas only knew he had to look