It was at the Napili Beach club, and it was an airport run, a good-paying one. When the couple got into the car, I noted the displeased manner of the gentleman and tried to spark conversation in a tactful way - And a good tip - by telling him, "Gee, do people tell you that you bear an amazing resemblance to a former President?"
His wife pointed that out, say, "See, Hun, he called you 'A former President.' It's not really that bad out there..."
But it would not cheer him up.
I noted how we had "Company" all the way there, but kept quiet, as it was my line of work to meet celebrities, many of whom wanted their privacy. Like by taking a private taxi.
He didn't even smile when he gave me a $5 tip.
CIA Agent, Director of (Covert) Operations, Director, Vice President, President, and father of current President, George Herbert Walker Bush. Yet I believe I first met him at a Bob Hope show I was arranged to go to circa '69 at Camp Zama, Japan. A Agent/Agent Handler relationship is obviously a life-long "Affair." (Yeah, yeah, go ahead and snicker...)
The reason this photo is chosen for him is part of the text below under James Steward.
So, I had to go in and get the luggage, and the President simply stood there while I loaded it. Then, out of the blue clear sky, he let loose of his golf bags and they fell to the floor.
I thought it was idiocy, the way no one would simply pick them up, so I went over and did just that. He said "Thank you." I think I said something like, "You're welcome, Mr. President."
The rest of the taxi staff made big of how "Crazy" that was of me.
Of course, they'd made fun of me, too, calling it "A reverse liposuction" when I came back from a rather unneeded tongue surgery so "Bloated" I needed new shirts.
Read elsewhere in my site how I'd been made into another sort of test study; i.e., How well and how long can a "Long-term Sleeper" accommodate 30 pounds of micropellet plastique embedded silicone? While I'd checked into a Kailua hospital for a what I'd been told would be a tongue Carcinoma In Situ surgery, the nurse afterwards had asked me how I'd enjoyed the ambulance ride to the Kaneohe military base, "To see the military doctor experts?" After I'd awoken, seemingly somehow missing a whole day.
A deliberate dry run, I guess. To prove my proximity to such a ranking person could be made to happen, or something along that line? - But that's obvious from Middle East coverage on TV, every day, now isn't it?
That's how long the Director had been counter-running him, or at least what they wanted me to think and remember...
And they've kept him on a nice doggy leash, if that is so, in a "Safe and Secure Location" since the near 9/11 Coup d'etat.
Since my tie kept getting into the food, they were kind enough to send me a couple of tie pins, but in my most recent impoverishment and homelessness, I have lost them.
It was a "Sleeper" test, again, for this held for me some very important M.C. mnemonics. Steward's personal presence reminded me how I'd been told, under hypnosis, that it was my job "To help the Director get HIS wings." To me, as the son and step-son of two 101st Airborne soldiers, that meant parachuting, Big Time.
Another mnemonic, the Director told me how he'd promised himself since Chichi Jima that he would do just that some day when he would be 83 years old, (Yes!) and that MY DAY of vindication would also come then, too, he'd promised.
I guess the inheritance thing is now getting dealt with, FINALLY.
"Every time an Angel got his wings, a bell would ring." (Does that "Ring a bell" for you?) My duty was to REMEMBER, even things 30 years prior. To "Snap to."
And yet another main focus, I'm sure, was to "Not to jump off the bridge" when the hard times would come, and society pitted against one. That the cash would come rolling in, once the issue was resolved... (I WISH!)
Particularly around Christmas, the time of the year where many do commit suicide, and my Mother and her Commie friends had made sure was a miserable time of year for me in my childhood years.
The idea was to portray for Congress and the American People how the media itself could be, and most certainly is, used to provide "Sleepers" (Of whatever side) their key, but hidden, mnemonic instructions and the like. See the old movie "Telefon" (German for "Telephone") to see what I mean. Another good one is called the "The Breaking Point (The Paper Cut)," I believe, and interesting interesting site location addition to the last program of "MASH."
You can read elsewhere on my site how that conversation went, but Intel Officer GWHB did ask the comedian if he could do one important duty for the soldiers, and specifically me, because I would become one.
Mr. Hope of course said "Yes," and the Director asked him if he could manage to live to 100.
He jokingly replied by asking but if one would WANT to live that long? The aging, etc.
Investigator (I guess) Bush then told him that such could provide an example, and literally, "Hope," for me, for in that I would surely have such similar misery... For the cause of American Property Rights and the Enemy's focus on me.
Well, from what I've read, Mr. Hope hung on in his last years, often in great pain, as his last but fitting duty for the Armed Forces, simply for a soldier like myself for this specific reason.
I guess he deserves a medal...
He then went on stage, apologizing for being late. Saying to the audience that "He'd been having sex backstage... With a couple of guys..." The crowd roared.
It was a nice Bon Odori festival, too, but Mr. Bush marveled at how much I was eager to get to my new job, rather than watch the show, at what my new, limp-wristed, typing high school teacher later tried to "Impress" me with what he called the "O-Club."
Where my mother had insisted I go to work at.
Can you imagine what it's like to have Queers everywhere in your life, just because they want to make of you a "Political Agenda?" With government funding, no less?
There were no volunteers to suck out the poison, I had later heard.
But his later appearance on TV, right at the timing of Rainer Rupp's exposure was, to me, a mnemonic of the NATO compass symbol, with "North being a tad off..."
That, to me, I'd advanced a degree from WO I to WO II, was what it meant to me. More M.C. stuff.
One asked the other, "Is HE the one we're supposed to be seen by?" And the first answered in the affirmative.
Since the first time I ever heard Randy Travis's "1000 Points of Light," did I go into a euphoric flashback of that particular Duesseldorf Consulate hypnotic session. Some kind of euphoric injection had been given to me just for that flashback purpose.
It got to where I'd play the song over and over again, trying to find a clue to my miserable state at the hands of authorities and "Mentals."
To later find out that the song had been commissioned by President GHW Bush, and, of course, because a political theme of its own, simply proves another M.C. point.
The reason this photo is chosen for him is part of the text below under James Steward.
So, I had to go in and get the luggage, and the President simply stood there while I loaded it. Then, out of the blue clear sky, he let loose of his golf bags and they fell to the floor.
I thought it was idiocy, the way no one would simply pick them up, so I went over and did just that. He said "Thank you." I think I said something like, "You're welcome, Mr. President."
The rest of the taxi staff made big of how "Crazy" that was of me.
Of course, they'd made fun of me, too, calling it "A reverse liposuction" when I came back from a rather unneeded tongue surgery so "Bloated" I needed new shirts.
Read elsewhere in my site how I'd been made into another sort of test study; i.e., How well and how long can a "Long-term Sleeper" accommodate 30 pounds of micropellet plastique embedded silicone? While I'd checked into a Kailua hospital for a what I'd been told would be a tongue Carcinoma In Situ surgery, the nurse afterwards had asked me how I'd enjoyed the ambulance ride to the Kaneohe military base, "To see the military doctor experts?" After I'd awoken, seemingly somehow missing a whole day.
A deliberate dry run, I guess. To prove my proximity to such a ranking person could be made to happen, or something along that line? - But that's obvious from Middle East coverage on TV, every day, now isn't it?
That's how long the Director had been counter-running him, or at least what they wanted me to think and remember...
And they've kept him on a nice doggy leash, if that is so, in a "Safe and Secure Location" since the near 9/11 Coup d'etat.
Since my tie kept getting into the food, they were kind enough to send me a couple of tie pins, but in my most recent impoverishment and homelessness, I have lost them.
It was a "Sleeper" test, again, for this held for me some very important M.C. mnemonics. Steward's personal presence reminded me how I'd been told, under hypnosis, that it was my job "To help the Director get HIS wings." To me, as the son and step-son of two 101st Airborne soldiers, that meant parachuting, Big Time.
Another mnemonic, the Director told me how he'd promised himself since Chichi Jima that he would do just that some day when he would be 83 years old, (Yes!) and that MY DAY of vindication would also come then, too, he'd promised.
I guess the inheritance thing is now getting dealt with, FINALLY.
"Every time an Angel got his wings, a bell would ring." (Does that "Ring a bell" for you?) My duty was to REMEMBER, even things 30 years prior. To "Snap to."
And yet another main focus, I'm sure, was to "Not to jump off the bridge" when the hard times would come, and society pitted against one. That the cash would come rolling in, once the issue was resolved... (I WISH!)
Particularly around Christmas, the time of the year where many do commit suicide, and my Mother and her Commie friends had made sure was a miserable time of year for me in my childhood years.
The idea was to portray for Congress and the American People how the media itself could be, and most certainly is, used to provide "Sleepers" (Of whatever side) their key, but hidden, mnemonic instructions and the like. See the old movie "Telefon" (German for "Telephone") to see what I mean. Another good one is called the "The Breaking Point (The Paper Cut)," I believe, and interesting interesting site location addition to the last program of "MASH."
You can read elsewhere on my site how that conversation went, but Intel Officer GWHB did ask the comedian if he could do one important duty for the soldiers, and specifically me, because I would become one.
Mr. Hope of course said "Yes," and the Director asked him if he could manage to live to 100.
He jokingly replied by asking but if one would WANT to live that long? The aging, etc.
Investigator (I guess) Bush then told him that such could provide an example, and literally, "Hope," for me, for in that I would surely have such similar misery... For the cause of American Property Rights and the Enemy's focus on me.
Well, from what I've read, Mr. Hope hung on in his last years, often in great pain, as his last but fitting duty for the Armed Forces, simply for a soldier like myself for this specific reason.
I guess he deserves a medal...
He then went on stage, apologizing for being late. Saying to the audience that "He'd been having sex backstage... With a couple of guys..." The crowd roared.
It was a nice Bon Odori festival, too, but Mr. Bush marveled at how much I was eager to get to my new job, rather than watch the show, at what my new, limp-wristed, typing high school teacher later tried to "Impress" me with what he called the "O-Club."
Where my mother had insisted I go to work at.
Can you imagine what it's like to have Queers everywhere in your life, just because they want to make of you a "Political Agenda?" With government funding, no less?
There were no volunteers to suck out the poison, I had later heard.
But his later appearance on TV, right at the timing of Rainer Rupp's exposure was, to me, a mnemonic of the NATO compass symbol, with "North being a tad off..."
That, to me, I'd advanced a degree from WO I to WO II, was what it meant to me. More M.C. stuff.
It was indeed yet another contrived conversation when, among the few times I've been allowed "Normal employment," I worked as a waiter at the old Saratoga Pizza Hut. The only customers I even had that evening were a couple of guys I simply was suspicious of, because of this. I was told it would be Randy Travis and his violin-playing "Partner," I simply ignored whatever that was supposed to imply.
One asked the other, "Is HE the one we're supposed to be seen by?" And the first answered in the affirmative.
Since the first time I ever heard Randy Travis's "1000 Points of Light," did I go into a euphoric flashback of that particular Duesseldorf Consulate hypnotic session. Some kind of euphoric injection had been given to me just for that flashback purpose.
It got to where I'd play the song over and over again, trying to find a clue to my miserable state at the hands of authorities and "Mentals."
To later find out that the song had been commissioned by President GHW Bush, and, of course, because a political theme of its own, simply proves another M.C. point.
One asked the other, "Is HE the one we're supposed to be seen by?" And the first answered in the affirmative.
Since the first time I ever heard Randy Travis's "1000 Points of Light," did I go into a euphoric flashback of that particular Duesseldorf Consulate hypnotic session. Some kind of euphoric injection had been given to me just for that flashback purpose.
It got to where I'd play the song over and over again, trying to find a clue to my miserable state at the hands of authorities and "Mentals."
To later find out that the song had been commissioned by President GHW Bush, and, of course, because a political theme of its own, simply proves another M.C. point.
