Pro-God, Pro-Human Life, anti-New World Order, Anti-Nefarious Secret Societies, Pro-Civil Liberties, anti-Torture, anti-National ID Card, Pro-Family, Anti-Neo Conservativism, Pro-Net Neutrality, Pro-Home Schooling, Anti-Voting Fraud, Pro-Good Israelis & Pro-Good Palestinians, Anti-Human Trafficking, Pro-Health Freedom, Anti-Codex Alimentarius, Pro-Action, Anti-Bigotry, Pro-9/11 Justice, Anti-Genocide, and Pro-Gun Control. My name is Timothy and I'm from the state of Virginia.
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Update: Marine “Military Presence” Confirmed in San Bernardino County
Besides those already mentioned, I have fond and interesting memories of San Bernadino County (well some at least). Briefly; December 2001 at 29 Palms Crater, has got to be one of the most interesting Marine Corps and Black Helicopter Training experiences, of my life. Then there was the flowers left me, by an anonymous ghost, at the Native American memorial rock, not far from Hole in the Wall; and parking Rosie (my VW Camper van) in the middle of the dirt road, to take a pee, at about 4 am in the morning, while driving from Hole in the Wall, to take a pee under the awesome Mojave Dessert sky, to watch all the stars; and that train that came out of nowhere (I had parked on the railway tracks, a 'ritual kind of 'pee' in the dessert thing -- wierd I know, but I do wierd things to keep my mind entertained, when I can't find interesting conversation); and then Rosie would synchronicistically refuse to start right then; while parked facing the oncoming train, and peeing in my pants to try and get her started, and push her out the way, and the train blowing it's horn like crazy, and screeching to a halt, with smoke billowing from the brakes, and stopping about 2 meters from Rosie; and the traindriver in hysterics, who insisted on calling the San Bernadino Co. Sherrif's Office; who sent out a nice Sherrif named Sgt. Hart; who impounded Rosie, and calmed down the train driver; and smiled at my story, decided not to charge me, but got Victorville hospital's doctor to ask me a few questions, just in case I was being suicidal (they said I wasn't, although they had some fascinating patients -- now there was some interesting conversation!), and the next day, they let me go; only to get back to Sgt. Hart, to find Rosie, at the pound, and some smart alec had stolen my favourite book: THE AMERICAN TERRORIST, and the bookmark photo of me on St. Patricks Day, while at work in Berkley pub, with Irish flag painted on my face. Now why would someone steal that? Guess must have been the anonymous Navaho Ghost with flowers? Just a few memories from San Bernandino County dessert...
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Besides those already mentioned, I have fond and interesting memories of San Bernadino County (well some at least).
Briefly; December 2001 at 29 Palms Crater, has got to be one of the most interesting Marine Corps and Black Helicopter Training experiences, of my life.
Then there was the flowers left me, by an anonymous ghost, at the Native American memorial rock, not far from Hole in the Wall; and parking Rosie (my VW Camper van) in the middle of the dirt road, to take a pee, at about 4 am in the morning, while driving from Hole in the Wall, to take a pee under the awesome Mojave Dessert sky, to watch all the stars; and that train that came out of nowhere (I had parked on the railway tracks, a 'ritual kind of 'pee' in the dessert thing -- wierd I know, but I do wierd things to keep my mind entertained, when I can't find interesting conversation); and then Rosie would synchronicistically refuse to start right then; while parked facing the oncoming train, and peeing in my pants to try and get her started, and push her out the way, and the train blowing it's horn like crazy, and screeching to a halt, with smoke billowing from the brakes, and stopping about 2 meters from Rosie; and the traindriver in hysterics, who insisted on calling the San Bernadino Co. Sherrif's Office; who sent out a nice Sherrif named Sgt. Hart; who impounded Rosie, and calmed down the train driver; and smiled at my story, decided not to charge me, but got Victorville hospital's doctor to ask me a few questions, just in case I was being suicidal (they said I wasn't, although they had some fascinating patients -- now there was some interesting conversation!), and the next day, they let me go; only to get back to Sgt. Hart, to find Rosie, at the pound, and some smart alec had stolen my favourite book: THE AMERICAN TERRORIST, and the bookmark photo of me on St. Patricks Day, while at work in Berkley pub, with Irish flag painted on my face. Now why would someone steal that? Guess must have been the anonymous Navaho Ghost with flowers?
Just a few memories from San Bernandino County dessert...
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