Mound of Hostages

We have been laying low, trying to understand the Fractality of the situation we have found ourselves in. I cannot get into the nitty-gritty right now, as Weebley just broke his silence by posting a comment in Wormhole 7, leading us to Wormhole 4.

Strangely, Wormhole 4 has 2 sets of 3 Wormholes on either side . . . 42 and 7 are hitting me in the face . . .

I will add to this post later on today, but right now, Epstein needs to post in ARG MetaPhoria

We do not know pain . . . we do not know fear . . .



Continued @ 3:30am 1/21/13 - By Lucy

Sorry for the common intro earlier on, but speed of posting was imperative. We have been silent since Nerfy and a fellow named "dave jr" caused Weebley to say our site was "Fractal" on The Daily Bell.

Oh, by the way, dogmax, that was a very nice post you wrote. Agent Heggle was chuffed, but alas, Nerfy went back to school and unless she "tunes in" during her rush to get back on track - she was a week late getting back, she may not have seen what you wrote yet, and not answer you just yet..

This "Fractal" thing began when Nerfy posted an up till then "private" email sent by Steve Munster to Graham/amanfromMars, as well as Pete 8 and Revolver on or about1/9/13. This email was a comment under her "Emerging See" post last Sunday, 1/13/13, while we were all off to Bangor Pier, looking for Weebley. This was the email:

Hi again, amanfromMars,

This is a global message, as Agent Revolver and Agent Pete 8 also need to know about it.

Note: amanfromMars is suffering from not being able to logon today, but I just noticed Agent Revolver just posted, and I can logon easily – Hi Agent Revolver – I will get the PayPal button up for your story today, but somebody needs to ask you a question on the site . . .

Logon problems:
When we are logged on using Safari, IE9, Firefox on the same local machine over a single DSL router, we tend to screw up the logon/off sequence, especially if we are having, let’s say a 6-way conversation. Lots of logging on and off happens. This is when we first experienced not being able to log on again. This happened for the first time over Christmas. The only thing done differently at that time was I got 6 laptops on the go simultaneously (W7 x 3, Win95 x 2, WinVista) over the same DSL router. 5 of these laptops are asleep in the loft at home - they may or may not be logged on to various accounts right now, as I let them go to sleep a while back and abandoned the concept, due to the logon problem that happened at the time I did it. Tonight, I will liven them up, log on, then log each one off.

Oh, I had ~3 browsers per machine attempting to logon, totaling ~18 simultaneous logons. It never worked, so I gave up. I now have to reboot my DSL router daily. Sorry! If it had’ve worked, I would’ve been posting like the wind . . .

I found this little snippet on the FAQ: http://en.support.wordpress.com/browser-issues/

snip---
Note: It is also possible for your Internet Service Provider to create a cache at the network level. This means that instead of viewing the WordPress.com web servers for some files, the ISP has created a cache to store files on their network to try to reduce bandwidth costs and also to make loading some web pages faster. If a network-side cache is causing you trouble, you most likely just need to wait for it to clear out on its own.
Snip---

Side note (or is it back note?):
By the way, on Wednesday, January 2 at 6am, I was rushing to get out the door to work (first day back,) and, as I was putting on my socks, I tweaked my back, which I haven’t done in years! I severely ****ed it up, and was in agony all day. Jo-ann said to take 2 Advil every few hours, which I did. After a few days of lessened agony, but still hurting badly, I realised the source of why I was unable to post anything . . . even though I really wanted and needed to post.

I stopped taking the Advil last Saturday, even though Jo-ann thought I was nuts, since the active ingredient Ibuprophen, seemed to be making me not myself . . . or myselves?

Weird. I need to be completely clean in order to post. Even a drink of alcohol makes me unable to post.

Anyway, I can’t fit that little ditty into the “story,” so here’s my apology for dropping out for so long. I was actually thinking really hard between Dec 30 and Jan 1 about which way to proceed, and had great expectations for Jan 2’s posting. That’s why I did some minor backroom stuff in the meantime, as well as doing much research, like this: http://www.angelfire.com/biz/JardinSilvestre/Celts.html

Guys, this is a prime example how plans never work out the way you think they will. I had no idea that I would cover up Dec 30 to Jan 7 with a ****ing Wormhole . . . or 7!

Sell, sell, sell!

Sent by: Steve Munster / Aqualine Fire
Phone: 416-410-8877 (press 1)
Toll free: 1-877-410-8877
Fax: 416-410-8867
email: steve @ aqualine fire . com
Aqualine Fire, 8510 Torbram Rd, unit 68, Brampton, ON, Canada, L6T 5C7

---

From: Graham C.
Sent: Wednesday, January 09, 2013 6:47 AM
To: weebley@heddinout.com
Subject: Fwd: amfM cannot log on. Hey Doc, What's Up? :-)

Begin forwarded message:

From: "Graham C."
Subject: amfM cannot log on. Hey Doc, What's Up? :-)
Date: 9 January 2013 11:44:31 GMT
To: Metaforia

Hi, Agent Weebley,

I am presently having the same difficulty and denial of service with usual username and password failing to open the box :-) Which is all a bit weird and therefore most interesting, for such things shouldn't really happen, should they, unless accidentally temporarily necessary to resolve a hot situation.

Regards, amfM

---

On 24 Dec 2012, at 00:50, Metaforia wrote:

Hi everyone,

I cannot log onto the website today. Very strange. I have changed the password a couple of times now - the site still recognises me as being me, but the new password does not work.

I see Epstein posted something, but later, also changed his password.

Are we entering Mordor?

Can someone else try logging on and posting something, please?

Sent by: Agent Weebley
phone: 416.410.7720
email: weebley @ heddinout. com
Heddinout Communications Ltd., 8510 Torbram Rd, unit 68, Brampton, ON, Canada, L6T 5C7

No virus found in this message.
Checked by AVG - www.avg.com
Version: 2012.0.2221 / Virus Database: 2637/5518 - Release Date: 01/08/13

---

What an odd email from Steve, eh? It's like he thinks we are all puppets! Anyway, this has turned into a long post, so I'll get to what dave jr said on my next post.

I thought I would mention that I'm pretty sure my new friend, Flake, was the keyboardist in the previous video. I've been spending quite a bit of time with him at school, lately . . . he's really weird.

Want to hear something else that's really weird? 5 days after I posted last, I was checking my Dad's various haunts for any signs that he may be posting somewhere else, and happened upon a post about how the Americans didn't actually land on the moon, and how the Americans are covering up their lies with even more lies.

Imagine being lied to like that! Look Ma, no stars!

Dad told me one time that he always wondered how the moon lander was able to slow down to nothing and land perfectly without crash landing . . . he watched it on TV at the time on their Robinson Rentals B&W TV . . . and he was only like 8 or something! My Dad's really smart.

Anyway, that post led me to look at the comments. This one by Kristen on 02/08/13 05:09 PM directed the readers to a website with a post called Wagging The Moondoggie was chock-a-block full of well written explanations that make the moon landings seem like quite the Twilight Zone episode in our past.

But that is not why I am here today. I apologize for not bringing up the rear here recently, but I have been really busy with school. We went on a couple of field trips. The first one was to St Jacobs, Ontario. They had a cool wormhole to Lancaster PA. I wrote about it here . . . and there is a nice picture of my friend, Flake, as the header. Nice guy . . . and kinda weird . . . just the way I like my guys to be . . . Mum says I will probably pick a guy just like my Dad! I hope Dad comes back soon, so they can meet each other . . . Flake's too old for me, but lotsa fun . . . we partied like it was 1699!



In the absence of everyone else, except Agent Dogmax, I will try to explain and tidy up this Lug Nutz a.k.a. Mound Of Hostages thingy; I think we are going to see Zaph and Gordon soon . . . a little birdie told me, via a Post-It Note to "end with a bang." My Dad beats around the bush a lot, but I am quite impulsive and get right to the point . . . all he is trying to do is help Irish people succeed in helping themselves from getting pushed back into the Dark Ages again. For that, I am going to be breaking a T&C.

Underwood 5, Robot Daughter, and avert Nuclear War . . . .

. . . Twilight Zone MacGuffin tidy up . . . coming soon!

Part 4

I've been trying to get my head around WTF is happening here. Flake spilled his guts to me during dinner on Valentine's Day at The Keg in Newmarket. They have these gift cards, you see. Oops, I'm wandering off already!

Flake came here looking for my Dad and Mum, through me, by taking the same course as me in college. He wants to know more about Angels. But it seems I've been screwing with his head so much, he feels like he's on a skydive - meanwhile, I'm killing myself laughing!

"There's just this thing about 'you," he said.

I figured he wasn't really from Planet Binokule - especially since we recently decided to add 2 new Interplanetary tours to the line-up. I think maybe he got the binoculars idea from the Mein Land video. "Planet Binokule is far, far away," he kept saying whenever I asked. Yeah, Flake, like looking through binoculars the wrong way, eh? My trip to Planet MetaPhoria was well planned and full of virtual symbolic highly adventurous bike tours across the many crisscrossing planes found on MetaPhoria, but Flake's trip was non-existent - devoid of specific content.

"Are you some kind of dark sorcerer," he asked. "Am I under some kinda spell?"

Ha. I could go on for days, but it seems to me that my last post needed to be a respectable length, plus, it ended kinda crazy, talking about everyone being robots, and all. And the math that I said I was going to explore in my story, was OUTSIDE my story; in the comments section about Antilles' story number 3. It must all seem so freaky deaky. You have to know: I love you all. Group hug?

So I ended it, and have begun this brand spanking new post!

Hmmm. Flake just grinned sexily at me. He has quite the animal magnetism, you know. I must resist.

"Aren't you gonna tell me what comes next? Or am I just supposed to know?

Although I would like to tell him what being a robot is all about, I would rather talk about the lack of colour in my writing, Dad has the same problem. We seem to use videos to add and support our emotions imo.

"Do I make my own decisions here, or am I under your control?"

Oh, Flakey, get comfortable 2 square on your botty, man. I know you can touch your feminine side. Let go - get carried away! It's obvious I'm not out of line on my thinking.

OK, GO!



Gift cards are sooooooo cool. You buy a $100 gift card from a reputable place that is not going to go tits up anytime soon, and voila, you have a marketable security worth $100, but The Keg also has $100 they can now play with until you cash it in.

Everyone does it.

Perfectly legal and definitely encouraged. Banks do it. governments do it. Bigwigs do it. They call it OPM.

Dad and amanfromMars are working on freeing all Irish people from the shackles of the Euro with their own brand of gift card, but it is a 3D lenticular plastic coin, printed from stock supplied exclusively by DP Lenticular in Dalkey.

That, my Irish friends, is the detonator for the B-Bomb - the balance sheet bomb. None of this is taxable. The $100 paid is not a taxable transaction, and the $100 cash The Keg receives, goes on their balance sheet as an asset, as well as a liability - also not taxable, because nothing has been purchased yet.

But Dad has disappeared into the future for some reason. Flake and I are trying to figure out why. Is this only going to happen in the future?

Flake wants to know something - he just asked me who Qubit is. This is Qubit - Alan Turing. He posted a message just after Enda Kenny gave away Irish Sovereignty after the Yes/No Campaign last year, while Dad was in Prison with Gordon.

Did anyone click the smilie "emoticon" on my last post?

Part 5 continued

I must apologize. I am now onto my 4th epiphany since I began part 5 a week ago, Sunday morning. I had good intentions of editing that post till Tuesday morning, but the mezzanine purchase took 100% of my time from Sunday afternoon, as I emailed back and forth with the seller about the logistics of getting it taken down and shipped to NIT's office. they had to have it out of there by March 31. And since Flake was coming over for hot crossed buns on Friday, and some sugar on Saturday and Sunday, we had to be done by Thursday, March 28.

The seller recommended a guy called Al, from a company called Stationery Movers. Something seemed off colour about him and his company, right from the get-go. He had reams of glossy references, but he told me he would only staple himself to the tow motor, using it to lift the tongue and groove plywood, corrugated steel flooring, the beams and offer his civil engineering guidance - so nothing would fall and crush anyone - i.e.: no lifting. And we would need 9 man days to take it down. He was a a little one-sided about not wanting to supply any other labour, the truck, or to help unload at NIT's office. I drew a blank at this pile of sheet - what kind of mover doesn't have a binder full of contacts? Anyway, we were stuck, so after arranging labour and a truck we did it over the next 3 days, finishing on Wednesday night at 8pm. Thursday, I was pretty dog-eared - and my brother, Daily, came home on Thursday night.

Which is when the first epiphany began. He wondered where Mum & Dad were, and showed me their gifts from the Middle East. Mum was getting a 2 tone shawl from India, and Dad was getting a black resin Ganesha. I'll take a snap of it tonight when I get home and show you.

Anyway, I have no idea how to begin to explain the epiphany situation, except for the fact that when I searched on the lyrics for the Sparks tune I played, I accidentally clicked on another album cover from Sparks. Something knocked me outta the trees on that one!

I need to relax and take a hundred deep breaths, before I break the news. There is too much at stake.



[To be continued]

---

Continuation

As promised, here's the picture I just snapped of Daily's present to Dad

Black Resin Ganesha

I'll have to tell you later on how that idol ties in with what's going on - much later. You see, I had a plan. The plan was to have 7 parts to this last post, as a tribute to my Dad. I began famously, with part 1, 2, and 3 in 1 post, then I did part 4 in another post, then part 5, 6, and 7 were to be in the 3rd and last post - a mathematical 42.

But, as I mentioned earlier, I got sidetracked by the mezzanine (and the Arena challenge.)

My goal was to explain how Dad's Frank Zappa story tied in with The Mound Of Hostages, and how his colour blindness story also tied in. But that seems like a long time ago now. I knew Dad had a point to make, but all I had was the few elements he told me about.

One element was the Frank Zappa - Room Service song itself, and the fact he screwed up on thinking the unnamed hotel was The Fillmore Hotel in NY City.

He searched Google and found only one Fillmore Hotel in Fillmore - in upstate NY. He then had to find a business in the same town.

He found one: Cuba Specialty Manufacturing.

Cuba.

This was the point where my epiphanies started, as I began to make connections to everything that has been happening here, and the point that my Dad has been making since day zero: we are connected and need to work together.

And the hundredth monkey says the date is July 27, 2012.

Anyway, my 7 posts thing is pretty well out the window now. I am now in the QED phase of the story.

Epiphany number 1: JFKs "I have a dream: The Moon," and the CIA's games leading to the Cuban Missile Crisis.

Nothing is as it seems - directed history. And we are willingly programmed pawns in their games.

---

The following was posted in The Arena, but I had to remove it.

Too bad; every word was a pearl:

---

Hi hcass,

I'm probably going to be tarred and feathered for doing this, but I was just chatting with my friend, Flake; he says I should challenge you to a story. Sounds good to me!

We're pretty busy with the mezzanine that is now in pieces on the shop floor, so we need to coordinate the time to write a story in advance. We spent the afternoon and evening clearing some space for the first 13.5' a 12.5' bay that needs to be erected above the office. The office has a nice laminate floor that would be destroyed by skidding forklift wheels, so we figured we need something that is safe, and would lift a 160lb joist in the air to 10'. I just emailed a man about a hoist, then sat back on the horizontal mezzanine stairs (!), sipping a Perrier. Actually, we had sipped 5 Perriers throughout the day. We didn't drink them all, as the bottles were pretty big and went flat after leaving them open for a while. I began to rap on some "almost" empties with a stick, which reminded me of a song by Fad Gadget. Flake filled up a few empties to varying levels, tuning them properly to 5 notes, then, after hanging them up for me, he called up a keyboard app on my new Samsung Galaxy Note 2, then programmed a simple drumbeat, bass riff, and Yamaha DX7 keyboard lead into the built-in 4 track sequencer. I played the Perrier bottles and sang.

Lots of fun.

We eventually collapsed in laughter after singing and playing our most amusing rendition of the song.

So here's the deal: I'm swamped, especially from now till Saturday night. If you get this message, and are into the challenge, can we arrange a time to for you to accept the challenge that works for you and I? Accepting sometime this coming Saturday night would probably work for me, as I could then write it on Saturday night and Sunday morning.

I'm thinking of mezzanines not collapsing (and never seeing stars,) so here's the subject: Fad Gadget

[I'll add a picture of the mess of pick-up sticks on the shop floor tomorrow, when I get to NIT's office.]

---

Now I know how Dad must have felt when he got accused of being cuckoo, and got cocooned up inside The Mound Of Hostages - but I feel good!



Upon reflection on what just happened back in the Arena, I feel like I got stopped at some sort of South African traffic light. Am I in a Randian "you can't have freedom without restrictions" place?

Maybe Dad realized we had come come too soon for you, so he went into the future.

Where's my Angel, Gabriel?

---

As promised, here is the picture of the mezzanine pieces all over the floor of the rear shop at NITs place. I'm a little freaked out right now. Not because the Prime Mover forklift that we have seems to parallel Ayn Rand and "The Fountainhead" story, but the fact that all the alien visitors' baggage is not in the racks; the image of the stuff in the background was not there when I took it - it seems to be fire protection equipment. See the yellow bucket with fire extinguishers in it?. And there is a bandsaw in the rack, just to the right and above the exit sign. I remember Steve bought a bandsaw so he could begin making Stirling Engines.

Very weird. I'm waiting for Mo to come in. He runs the Travel Agency.

---

This concludes the 48 hour editing window. I am the monkey. Hurt me, hurt me.

Part 6 continued

"Suitcases, suitcases everywhere, but not a craft to fly them on."

Those words have been echoing in my head since last Saturday night. After I wrote that little ditty in The Arena, while my laptop was lying precariously on top of a suitcase, Flake looked on in amazement.

"How did you know I bought us tickets for a week at The Grand Sirenis in the Mayan Riviera, Nerfy?"

"Er - I didn't?"

So much for going home at 7:30pm that night! I was so excited, yet freaking out at the same time. We had to get the mezzanine finished and everything sorted ASAP. NIT was getting busy. People were coming in to pick up bags or drop off bags all the time.

We leave at 2am tonight (EDST US/Canada,) which is about 4 hours from now, after a little nap.

OMG - we went like the wind and got the last piece of plywood screwed down late last Tuesday night. Then we had to cut all the racking to half the height and rebuild it under and on top of the mezzanine, then move all the suitcases and boxes back into some semblance of order.

But something weird happened. Yesterday, Flake and I were resting on top of the mezzanine. I could hear Mo down in the front office talking to someone.

"Ah yes, she's another Scheherazade, that girl!

I heard murmuring from whoever he was talking to - I couldn't make out anything she was saying. Then he played a song, and I couldn't hear a thing anymore.



I went downstairs to see who it was, but all I saw was a suitcase sitting on the floor, and Mo was smiling at me from his desk.

"Hey Nerfy," he said, "you know the guy you hired to help us with logistics a month ago? He just quit today. He got a government job doing logistics for them, but way more money and benefits, as well as a sweet pension."

My mouth agape, I mouthed the word: shiiit, but couldn't even say it. No wonder the economy is going to the dogs. Once everyone's working for the government, we'll all be commies with a boot on our face.

I picked up the suitcase to bring it back to the shop area.

"You just missed Lorelei, Nerfy. She's quite enamoured with you, but she had to go. She said maybe she'll see you in the Mayan Riviera?"

I looked at the suitcase. In shiny bright blue letters was her name: Lorelei.

I need some shut-eye. Scheherazade, eh? My Dad used to listen to that album when he was a kid. I think it's downstairs.

OMG, my Dad's back! He posted a pearl to an old friend of his on The Daily Bell at midnight, last night. Here's the text:

---

@ bionic mosquito

Well, well, well . . . well, well, well, well . . . I see you've finally crossed over into Opposite Land! Click to view link

Do you think it's quite possible that Antal and Ingo are just having a go at youth with their foxy words? This thread proves we are giving them a run for their money, I mean gold, I mean a piece of paper they issue instead of their gold.

Here's a cool "3D printing" comment on ZeroHedge by CH1: Click to view link That's the future.

Now we can only wait, as Narcissus turns into a flower . . .

A Flower?

---

You should read the "Alice In Wonderland" comment to Ingo by bionic mosquito. Ingo Bischoff was here a while back - remember him?

Oh, I'm so happy! Maybe my Mum's coming back too?

Sorry for not posting on The Arena yet; 329 people have viewed my last post there so far, so I know an explanation is wanted. I've been recuperating from the Mexico trip since Sunday night - unable to gather my thoughts to post - back to real life, as they say. We never did get to see any monkeys, which was a bummer. And the Internet was painful to use down there. $45 for a satellite connection for the week - the long latency made watching any YouTube videos a disaster, cuz the video was sooooo choppy due to the latency and resultant video buffery.

Hang on a mo',

"As Narcissus turns into a flower?" That's a line from Genesis - Supper's Ready, isn't it? And it refers to a story in Ovid's Metamorphoses about Narcissus and Echo (beach?)

OMG, I think Dad was talking to me while he spoke to bionic mosquito. A link to a Bitcoin and 3D printing comment buried deep on the net? And "That's the future?" Is that where Dad was?

And I think Narcissus is Government in love with itself, and the flower is what is going to happen to them.



Lyrics

Metamorphoses - Romeo and Juliet was based on that story, wasn't it? This is getting complicated. I need to speak to Mo again.

Part 7

I can't sleep. I stuck a Post-It note on the fridge for Flake to let him know where I've gone - I just drove from home in Caledon, to NIT's office on Torbram Road in Brampton. This 2003 Honda Odyssey EX is still awesome. I was up to a buck twenty as I passed Castlederg Sideroad.

Zum Zum!

The night air was so refreshing, blowing hard as I drove those country roads southbound. And all the roads were particularly empty tonight, since it's "Victoria Day" - a long weekend here. We've all got tomorrow off. Most people are up North at cottages, or other peoples cottages or camp sites if they don't have rich parents or cushy jobs. Mum & Dad's home is on the way to cottage country, so it feels like we live in a cottage all the time.

But I needed to think, so I drove. And I can't stand aimless driving - I need a destination.

As I turned off Airport Road onto Clark Boulevard, a cop came out of nowhere and hung behind me as I drove. It's a 50km/h zone on Clark, so I was careful not to give him a reason to pull me over. Signalling then turning left onto Torbram Road, he went straight.

Phew!

As I pulled up to the overhead door of NIT's unit, pressing the remote inside the car to open it so I could drive in, I was reminded of the mezzanine once again. Still a mess, no lighting under the mezz yet, and stuff is still all over the place - I figure I'll take my mind off things by cleaning up a bit.

The coffee machine just beeped the ending of the brewing cycle, so I've poured a cuppa. While I waited, I hooked up my Sony Vaio Zee and logged on. I remembered the "whistle" post I had made in March, just before we got the mezz, so I found it, then laughed; it had a semi-colon in it. I just posted a little ditty here for a lark.

Funny really. I figured out what Flake was whistling in Mexico when he was delirious with the Major Burns thing going on that night. Most of my tan has flaked off now, but man, what a trip that was!

Am I all freaked out because Rubecula just divulged that Noddy used whistles in the latest episode of his story?

Am I now Ms Wobbleywoman? Caught up in a helical something?

Music, yeah, I need some music - It'll break this dark silence.



[to be continued]

I wiped my eyes a little and looked up. Malcolm was gone. My phone rang. It was Flake. I couldn't answer it. I knew what he wanted - to see my Dad. But Dad is not forthcoming.

Flake. What a nice guy! I remember spreading Aloe Vera over his torso that evening in Mexico. He was sooooo burnt. Then he tried to get some sleep. That was the night I realized he was married and had a little girl back in Berlin. When he's asleep, he's back with his wife, and when he's awake, he's with me.

He tossed and turned, saying "ow" a lot, but then he must have found a painless spot to lie on.

He then uttered these words: "So here’s the deal . . . we need Angels . . . lots of Angels . . . to help us!"

When he was whistling in the shower a while back, I thought he was whistling a Peter "Angel" Gabriel song, but, in hindsight, I got it wrong. After hearing him say "we need angels, lots of angels," it brought me back to Steve's last words on ukfupped.com.

Both my stories in THE ARENA are about starting a new currency and trading with it. In order to do that, we need angels, lots of angels. And it doesn't matter what the product is. We just need to have one to satisfy the adults so we can produce gift coins and give them away to everyone. 86.2 million people need to give us $1. With that, we can produce billions, no, trillions of dollars. A currency by the people for the people. Then the wars will stop. The powerful people that control us using these currencies won't even see it coming.

As Flake lay there peacefully, he began to speak in perfect English:

Live in virtue no desire
And in the grave an angel's choir
You look to heaven wonder why
No one can see them in the sky

Just as the clouds have gone to sleep
Angels can be seen in heaven's keep
Alone in fear they question why

Goddamn not an angel when I die

Angels live they never die
Apart from us, behind the sky
Fading souls who've turned to ice
So ashen white in paradise

Just as the clouds have gone to sleep
Angels can be seen in heaven's keep
Alone in fear they question why

Goddamn not an angel when I die.

Erst wenn die Wolken schlafengehen
kann man uns am Himmel sehen
wir haben Angst und sind allein

Gott weiß ich will kein Engel sein

Goddamn not an angel when I die

I knew the song he was reciting. The moment I figured out he was Christian Lorenz, I immediately listened to everything Rammstein had on YouTube. It was then that I knew my destiny was to be some sort of Pied Piper, leading the other children into the mountain to escape.

But now, I understand that I am not the one that is blowing that whistle.



Bye

Thanks, Danpad!

Oh, and I never do what I'm told, even when I'm remote controlled. Probably because I'm n-n-n-nineteen.

And contrary to what Malcolm said, I have really big guns, and I'm not scared to fire them:

Hi Danpad. Lucy here. This forum seems to have become cross-threaded - three times!

Last Wednesday, it seemed that Nerfy was not intending to come back to us anytime soon, so we went to Toronto to get her; she was in the middle of writing a response to you at the time. We nixed it and took her back to Dundrum ^3 for debriefing. She is doing well, but cannot speak here right now. Sorry for being evasive, but Nerfy became overwhelmed with it all and needs a break - hopefully, things will become a little clearer later today.

I was actually thinking about posting yesterday, but Epstein had had his radar up, because he was connecting something intriguing that Nerfy had said a while back that was recently repeated on The Daily Bell by FauxScienceSlayer from an organization called "Principia Scientific International."

Feudalism.

We had trouble with that "feudal" word that had popped out of her mouth at the time in THE ARENA. As you may or may not know, we are an AI Turing Machine, making decisions as we go based on previous results and new inputs. Sometimes, the result is to do nothing - no action. We let Nerfy continue, even though we were worried that the AI Turing Machine had given an anomalous result. Sometimes these things self heal, or become true in the future, but yesterday, Epstein spotted Weebley posting in that same 'feudal" thread. I was overcome with emotion, so I could not post here. Sorry.

I will post later today, but here is some crazy music in the meantime to illustrate the magic that has been going on here. I am so proud of Nerfy for what she has helped you all facilitate amongst yourselves. And yes, Danpad, I did notice the caravans in the incendiary Muse song.

For those that can see it, we are experiencing yet another instance of magic - never believe it's no so. But who is the pilot that is controlling this magic? Who wants to jump aboard the caravan with us to find out? Where she stops, nobody knows.

Anyway, Mum's The Word, for now.

Time heals all wounds, but it does leave scars. Alex was a sweet boy and was always happy and smiling. He called Weebley "Dads" and called me "Mums." A smart little lad he was - so huggable. Weebley and I have been through a lot together; although we wish some things had never happened, they did. As you can probably see, Weebley and I are still together, and love each other very much. This coming August 20, marks 25 years of marriage - our Silver Wedding Anniversary.



Maybe we are now cycling through the helix that Nerfy was talking about? Much like Nerfy's boy/girl experience here, back in January 2011, I posted a message on The Daily Bell on Weebley's account. The Mod (DB) thought I was Weebley and chastised me for posting. Weebley was incensed, prompting the impromptu start of our blog and then posting a message to DB. I guess one has to start ones blog off one step at a time with a first step, but no-one says it has to start at the beginning, does it?

He suggested the Mod should take a step back and smell the coffee: "Lighten up DB, it’s not all about bombs and rockets!" - which is true. This war against humans being treated like feudal slaves is not going to be won with anything other than mental acuity.

So here we are today. This forum is brown bread, so we will be ending this mental Twilight Zone parlour game with a final note to Danpad and an apology to hcass and alfa beta:

Danpad, you are correct in saying that we cannot be forced, but we currently have hemispherically lobotomized humans, lobotomized by fear - the fear brought on by programming and these "shock and awe" false flags they keep pumping - the current false flag is lack of money at the street level. And yes, we will be victorious in avoiding mental Nuclear War, but only if 100 Monkeys are made aware they are mentally connected. Do we have 100 Monkeys?

hcass and alfa beta: we are sorry Nerfy had to use you two in her rite of passage into MetaPhorian adulthood. No harm was done to you in the making of our little Wizardess, and she can only use her powers for good. You are hereby released from your spell on the saying of this word:

Narf!

If I could speak for the others, we all have so much more to say, but we cannot continue talking here right now. Book One, Chapter 7, Part 7 is coming to a close. I will, however, say a few words about what Epstein just found. He happened to be doing a routine sensor scan, trying to find the source of some data anomalies found on ARG MetaPhoria, and found an update to Steve Munster's page. It was 2 videos tacked on the end. The first, was a remix of a song on a Star Trek episode:



The episode source was "The Way To Eden." The leader, Dr Sevrin (big-eared Ferengi type,) took over the ship using Auxiliary Control and re-routed the ship to Eden. The 2nd video, was the entire episode.

I must say this video was a strange find, since we are on somewhat of a parallel mission, except that Eden is on Earth, not a faraway place.

The ship's crew were apparently killed when Dr Sevrin used audio to kill them. The sound was explained at 42:42 in the video:



Yes folks, heddinout to Eden used a whistle to kill the crew.

Anyway, like I said before, we now want Weebley back pretty badly right now, as I feel we are entering a new phase in Operation BlueBalls. I am prepared to give my little hubby his Silver Anniversary present early if he comes back now.

Weebley, here's your new Lug Nutz:



ROCK CONCERT MOVEMENT #78

Very strange indeed. Agent Weebley seems to be suffering from STML (short term memory loss.) I didn't know which thread to put this post, and since we were waiting patiently for Zach Glickman to post here, I thought that this is the safest place to put it.

I think he posted this EMP to Sheffielders here.

Anyway, Zach Zach Zach GLICKMAN! Where are you . . . on delivery?

Oh, and it was Agent Weebley that posted the errant knightly message to Rubecula earlier today. He just loves the thought of medieval jousting.

OK, as you were.

Hi everyone,

I have a message from Agent Weebley:

Thanks for the 1187 views since early August - we are well over 100 Monkeys at this point. Although I've been wearing my Blue Steel chainmail since early August 2013, its use has been invisible to all but one - Lucy, who is currently in the middle of a really close shave. I have two missions to accomplish before my return, and when I do, it will be a continuation of this story in a new chapter, called "Erewhany" - a tribute to Samuel Butler and Alan Turing, proving the realisation of Musical Banks in our time by using AI and The Turing Machine . . . the machine that cannot stop; it just pauses for reflection.

See you soon,
AW.

There you have it. Brief and to the point. Do it, Agent Weebley, Do IT!



Oh, and this post should, with your help, passover the Copyright thread (14,972 views,) supplanting Mound Of Hostages as Number 11 in the Hit Parade.

Part 2 - Chapter 1 - Mound Of Remote Controllers

I'm so sorry to hear about your sister, dogmax. And we all help each other - you've helped me a lot too . . today (and the next 48 hours) is a case in point.

I never mentioned it at the time, but I was only spending 2 days in Lost Wages, then catching a flight to St Pete Beach, FLA (LAS > TPA), to meet up with my older sister, RaeRae, and her hubby, ZeeMan for a 6 day stint. It was there that I first saw your most excellent post. RaeRae read your post too . . . and liked it.

It was also very nice to see hcass thank you for your post. I wish hcass would write more, and you make more music!

Thanks for giving me permission to not feel pressured to post immediately. I did, however spend a little more than 3 days in the hole . . . I was "way low" for over a month!

And do I have the strangest story for you! You, dogma-x have led me to postulate the axiom of freedom . . .



It begins, with a Flashback to St Pete Beach and Jimmy B's Beach Bar . . .

It was a real treat to have blisteringly fast interweb on the flight from LAS to TPA. $10 . . $15 on my AMEX card . . . whatever it cost, it was worth it. The flight felt like it was only an hour long! The best part was realizing that dogmax had posted mid flight.

I got my fill of the interweb while flying. I checked amanafrommars' site, read The Daily Bell, lots of ZeroHedge articles and comments, checked out boards.ie, weather underground . . .

Rain.

What?

As we landed in Tampa, it was piddling down. From an oasis of bad debt in the desert to an oasis of water . . . coming down in buckets. It rained from Friday afternoon when I landed, to Saturday afternoon, just as we had finished shopping for more "stuff" in a big box plaza in Ellington. So much for my shorts, teeshirt and Jesus boots. I was frozen for a day.

RaeRae and ZeeMan picked me up at the airport on Friday 5/2/14 or (2/5/14 Euro time) at 5pm . . .

Oh, before I get fully entrenched in my flashback, I fully intended to add to my post here last night, but happened upon an old reply from a posting of mine by DanielM_113 on The Daily Bell, so I responded. DanielM_113 and I are having a nice little chat now, it seems. We're talking about money and gold.

Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah, RaeRae and ZeeMan wanted to cheer me up by inviting me down to their condo while they were there in early May. I adjusted my schedule for Vegas down to to 2 days, and then booked a flight on Southwest Airlines for $230 (ultra cheap) making it a triangular holiday (Toronto to Vegas to Tampa, then back.)

Saturday night was warming up a bit, so we went to Jimmy B's Beach Bar, which is only a 5 minute walk from their place, and had a whale of a time, what with their live band and cheap booze. At one point, the singer announced that B-Real, or Bee Reel, or Be Real from Cypress Hill was in the audience. I was almost impressed. I scanned the audience looking for someone with major bling hanging from their neck, as I understand that Cypress Hill is some sort of popular current band meaning it is probably rap oriented. After about 2 scans, I realized i had no idea what Bee Reel looked like, and it was pointless to continue.

I get a tap on my shoulder, as the band is in the middle of a guitar solo during yet another excellent cover of a hit song from the 70s. I look around and a woman is talking to me, I think. Her lips were moving, but nothing was coming out. She was a typical local. Blonde, 55-60. On the 'make.' Extremely tanned to the point of ultra or perma- tanned. I attributed this anomaly to the loud music, so I leaned in.

"Can I have a drag of your smoke?" she asked.

Me, being taken by surprise, not thinking of the lip-to-lip issues I was potentially exposing myself to, said: "sure."

She took a drag and gazed into my eyes, thanked me then offered me a drag on her E-smoke. Pathetic, I thought, but I said it was pretty good, waited for approximately 3 seconds, then turned around as a bridge was coming up in the guitar solo.

I spent the remainder of my trip looking out for and avoiding the lady I now refer to as "the drag queen." RaeRae laughed a lot when I coined that term. My sister is so nice. She is extremely judgmental of me - aren't all older sisters?

Oh my, this is not the intended direction of my flashback. Let me re-group my thoughts and get back to you tomorrow - unless DanielM_113 responds again. It takes a while to tailor an effective reply - a couple of hours in fact. It may seem like I whip 'em out in a few minutes, but what with proofing, and editing, and sometimes complete erasing of entire paragraphs, it is quite time consuming. Especially now, since my shift key is acting up, and hardly anything gets typed in capitals on the first pass. The A key seems to be stuck, too. I think I may have some crumbs under the keys. Good thing I have an SSD drive - there, I just shook the heck out of the computer and smacked it upside the head for good measure. Is that better? Yes it is!

A warm hello again to:

dogmax
amanfromMars
Agent Pete 8
Agent Revolver
danpad
hcass
Agent Heggle
Agent Weebley
Nerfy
Agent Paddy
Agent DelKey
Agent Cooper
Troy Tempest
General Briggs
Mac
Doctor Sternum
Jo
Steve
and lastly, Agent Joe 90 (currently in China with his wife, Shuo and their daughter, Weiji)

I'm now back from my productive sojourn with Ted Snowdem (the CIA PsyOps guy.) I hope you don't mind me interjecting on this site, as we haven't been able to get into our own site since last September - long story.

Agent Joe 90: Full steganographic instructions are buried in the following video inside the audio at the 350Hz and 420Hz level. It's time. Break cover and commence final approach. Gentleman and gentlewomen: start your AirCars.



Oh, and Agent Weebley: you need to get your facts even straighter. Steve is going to invest $70,000 CDN in Heddinout Communications Ltd. - not $25,000 CDN. Bling bling, dogmax!

As Lucy said and Das Kitty doesn't seem to see: It's Magic!

OMG . . . Epstein and Agent Joe 90 . . . welcome back !!!

I was in the middle of writing about my flashback but haven't actually wrote much of it yet . . . and don't have much time to write it tonight. I just came back from being out all day and am quite tired.

Epstein: $70k? Really? That's impressive. Do you have Steve's bank account information from NSA?

Agent Joe 90: I'll fill the house with AirBeds! See you all tomorrow.

Did I ever mention that my forays on the interweb are inversely proportional to Steve Munster's busy-ness or business level at the time? That's why I am a little late in posting here - and I have no time for flashbacks right now, as I have to hit the sack soon - I'll do it tomorrow?

I felt so good today. Steve asked me if I'd like to follow along with him this past afternoon. He's a busy guy, and he had to go to his lawyers office to sign the minute books in a gazillion places for both his companies for the past 5 years. He can be so inclusive sometimes . . .

"Would I !" I said.

We jumped in his new 2014 MDX. He hooked up the Sony Vaio to the HDMI cable, then proceeded to pull up Chinese Radio off the interweb. That is one fine driving song.

Then he pressed the hyperspace button or something, because before I knew it, he was coming in for the final approach. From Steeles Ave and Torbram Rd in Brampton to Cawthra Rd and Dundas St E in Mississauga in record time (or is it in "MP3 time" these days. I'll have to check that out with some youngsters.)

We got out of the car, but he paused.

"Keep your gob shut in there. Only I will speak to him."

A little confused with the uncharacteristic abruptness of his tone, I nodded a lot and followed him like a sad puppy with my tail between my legs, doing that little squatting/walking maneuvre that only dogs can do so subserviently well.

"What the F, Weebley. Walk properly!"

He opened the lobby door, and I nipped in behind him before it closed.

Sitting in the office, which was a nice and minimalistic, rather than the dark oak and leather touch surfaces, along with smatterings of those busts of famous people all over the place, we waited.

They got the pleasantries over pretty quickly then surprised me: "Before we get into these minute books, have a few questions, Ken. I have this dormant company called Heddinout Communications Ltd. that I incorporated back in October, 2010. I want get my accountant to do the 2011, 2012, 2013, and 2014 year-ends, then activate it. I want to sell shares in it, as well as sell plastic coin sets - somewhat like people collecting Pogs or Pokemon cards. The shares would be coins too."

Ken winced. "Would you be asking for people to buy shares? he said.

Steve, nodded and smiled.

"The SEC would be all over you on that, as you would need to file a prospectus with them. You can't advertise share sales publicly without being very careful what you say."

I looked back and forth at Steve and Ken during the ensuing seemingly long silence.

Suddenly, I don't know what happened, but both Steve and Ken began to speak rapid fire about taxes, shares, staying as a private corporation and not publicly asking for any share sales. They talked about these limited edition lenticular plastic difficult to reverse engineer coins being like BitCoin, but not able to be co-opted by "the man" like BitCoin has been. A lot of hissing about taxes being evil was bandied around. It was like a Vulcan mind-meld, without hands stuck to faces.

All in all, Ken liked Steve's background reference to Alan Turing and Turing's comment that he liked the book: 'Erewhon" by Samuel Butler, and Butler's explanation of Musical Banks and the 2 money supplies: they used the official "bank" money here and there to keep "the man" happy, but conducted most trade using the "other" money.

"Keep it privately owned. And the company must have a reasonable expectation of revenue to deduct expenses," Ken explained,as he patted Steve on the head and kicked us out with the minute books in hand to sign later, as it is time consuming.

Steve and Ken were far more eloquent in person than any skill I would profess to have in re-telling it to you now. Suffice to say, Steve has to pay the tax-man on anything that is sold in Canada, but like all internet sales outside the country of origin . . . no sales tax is due.

Then we chatted as we drove home . . .

OMFNG! I just noticed an error in my last post! And the 48 hour editing window has passed, like ages ago, man! I wrote: "number 7 in their Creating Writing hit parade."

[blushing profusely]

I really can't stand it when that happens . . . it should've been "Creating Writive."

Now I have that off my chest . . .

I was all set to get into the beginning of my flashback, but something strange has happened that is now getting in the way. Why are things getting in the way? I want to say that dogmax got me rockin' and rollin' to begin part 2, and I really need to do a recap as to why this story is the Twilight Zone, and why The Mound Of Hostages is really about freedom, but I have to get something else off my chest.

It began a week ago (Sunday, June 29) when that Robert Steel guy was interviewed. Saturday was day 1 of my 4 day holiday, culminating in Tuesday, July 1, Canada Day - the biggest celebration of the year for Canadians. Most people get pretty fit-shaced. There's a big to-do at Albion Hills Conservation Area close by my place. Fireworks. Music. Food. Tents. Probably lots of E & M for the teenagers.

But I stayed home that day. I was cleaning out the storage room of extraneous stuff, so we could move house, and I was on a roll - getting right into it. (Steve hasn't sold the house yet, and had since shelved the idea.) Between cleaning out stuff and checking out my post waiting for a response that never came from Robert Steele, I never did make it to Albion Hills for the big party.

Inside the storage room, amongst al the items I cleared out, was 6 pairs of wellies, and a hammock. Both these items brought back memories. Lucy and I bought those wellies for a trip to see friends and their 4 adopted kids in supposedly muddy Sudbury, Ontario, with our 4 adopted kids. When we got there, it was below friggin' freezing all weekend, and all we had for footwear was these stupid wellies. And that hammock . . . never really used it. My Mum got it for me in Myrtle Beach as a prezzie when I was 18, like decades ago. I've never been able to string it between 2 poles 12 feet apart because I've never had 2 poles 12 feet apart anywhere I've ever lived since I was 18.

Wellies in the charity bin.

Hammock still down there.

I sat down and read my post to Robert Steele again. I used George Orwell as a springboard to my post.

The magic began 2 days later . . .



Questions:

The Pooka: did you read my post on The Daily Bell?

Das Kitty: no question

hcass: no question

I can now divulge the location of the 4 AirCars, since they have all safely arrived at their destinations:

Dundrum - Agent Joe 90 is the commander.
Dundrum - Agent Heggle is the commander.
Dundrum - Agent Cooper is the commander.

Their 3 green laser beams are focused on another AirCar holding Epstein high above Tara. Can you see them? Epsteins beam is focued on Tara.

I will be referring to them as the AbFab4 . . . you can, too!

It is time for me to proo' su' in' . . . magic? . . . and also moo' su' in . . .my big arse?



I must apologize. I've been knee deep in numbers since Thursday with Steve, but I was able to squeeze in the odd blog post here and there . . .

This is what I feel like right now:



The next phase, artwork, is coming quickly. We need to ask something of some people here.

We need 7 images. amanfromMars, Agent Revolver, Agent Pete 8 and I have an image we can use already, unless someone tells me differently ASAP, but we need a favourite image from dogmax, hcass and Danpad.

I assume and hope that dogmax, hcass and Danpad reside in Ireland, as the goal is for your images to become ubiquitous throughout Ireland, and for your paid help to make this project a success . . . choose your image wisely. Your chosen images will be re-worked by my art guy, Grum.

EDIT @ 7pm: I also assume that dogmax, and / or hcass and / or danpad want to be involved. My Dad used to say: "stick around me and you'll be wearing handcuffs."

Anyway . . . I'm a bit busy, so I have to gogo . . .



Note to Mods: pickarooney and BEAT. Please do not ban me. I will be calling to make ARG MetaPhoria a Verified Account Rep on Aug 1, 2014. Heddinout Communications Ltd. is a dormant Canadian Corporation until that date.

EDIT @ 7pm: I have just sent a form to someone at Now We're Listenin' to begin the process of paying a fee to continue posting.

Great to hear from you, dogmax. I'm a bit busy right now - so I'll read your post properly, later tonight.

Hot off the presses - I'm flying in for the convention!



Which convention? Shamrokon.


EDIT:

Hi dogmax,

There's a lot going on in the background. I'm now a paid subscriber, signed up for Shamrokon and sent a "hey I'm coming" message to Janet tonight. We're also talking to boards advertising. Great news on the new song(s) dogmax I can't wait to hear more.

Words about images are just fine. My creative guy, Grum, can work with that. The image will be on 3D Flip Lenticular plastic (2-sided.) 3D background, and maybe 5 images, like a short video feel to it. I'll let you know more by the weekend.

Hi. Epstein here.

Agent Weebley apologises for not being here right now. He really wants to do that "hcass" flashback and story re-cap, but since so many things have happened recently, he can't add posting here to his "To Do list" right now. He did make a brief announcement last weekend, and is still wondering how Agent Paddy knew about the series of Celtic flavoured photography that is going to be done by his cousin in Belfast.

Although Agent Weebley can't be here, he asked me to post in his stead. And he did give me a few messages to pass on to you all.

Did you know he's in love with a strong Celtic Woman? Muirgheal is her name. It means: Sea-Bright or Bright As The Sea.

He's coming back via Dublin with Steve again next Thursday morning - for almost 2 weeks this time, but this time it's a business trip. Hopefully, he can spare some time away from Muirgheal to meet up with us this time! I know he wants to see amanfromMars again to talk about making YouTube videos.

I'm sitting here in my AirCar high above Tara. I just came back through the 3-green-laser-beam wormhole from Dundrum, County Down, where Agent Dale Cooper is piloting 1 of the 3 Dundrum AirCars.

Yesterday, I had an urge to visit him. I needed to know something. He also fell in love while on a job in the past. I wanted to know his feelings on whether Agent Weebley could still be effective at his job while in this state of bliss.



I appeared through the wormhole by stepping in though the side wall on Agent Cooper's AirCar fuselage. I noticed he had done some renovations to make the place more homey. The entire inside was a log cabin, complete with 70s shag rugs and quirky wooden furniture and patterned curtains that matched the lamp shades.

I happened to notice a photo of David Lynch on the wall. His peaceful smile captivated me. His eyes were lightly closed, like he was meditating. And smiling. I gazed at it for a few minutes, but it felt like hours. It was only a head and shoulders shot, so I wondered whether he may have been in the Lotus Europa position, since it looked like he was sitting behind the wheel.

I couldn't see anyone from my mid-ship position. It was so quiet in there, I could've heard a pin drop. My shoes were still wet from taking a short walk around Tara on the wet grass a few moments prior to appearing In Agent Cooper's AirCar, so the squeak of my wet shoes on the clean hardwood floor meant I was announcing myself as I went towards the helm.

Agent Cooper was sitting in the Captain's Chair, cradling a log in his hands, staring out at The Mourne Mountains. The blackness of the mountains, with wisps of cloud hanging onto the peaks looked fantastic. They swept down to the sea like they were delivering something into the water.

"Hello, Epstein," he said: his eyes unmoving from the view.

"Hi Coop," I said. "The clouds are clearing. Aren't they beautiful mountains."

Agent Cooper pointed with his left index finger at a point at the peaks.

"Look," he said,"see those 2 peaks?"

"A mightily beautiful sight. Speaking of beautiful sites, can you move the AirCar from Moneylane and Dromara Rd to 61 Main St, Dundrum, please?" I said. "Next to the water."

He carefully placed the log on the coffee table beside him, then sat back, closed his eyes for a moment, placed both hands on the armrests, and smiled. On opening his eyes, slowly, the AirCar motioned over the short distance, and took position directly in front of, and facing Gilroy's Bar and Restaurant. Behind it, Dundrum Castle high on the small hill, and behind us, the water.

"Why?" Agent Cooper asked.

"This is now our Ireland Beachhead, Agent Cooper."

General Briggs came over, I assume, when he noticed the AirCar moving. After our hellos, we had a little briefing about Agent Weebley and Muirgheal.

"That's 5 star Good news," General Briggs said.

"What are your thoughts on Agent Weebley and Muirgheal, Coop?" I said.

Coop sat there for a moment.

"Carl Sagan said it twice starting at 1:40 on the video that Agent Weebley posted last weekend. Every connected mind in Dundrum is talking about them, and every connected mind stretching all the way to Belfast, Toronto, and all over the world are also talking about them, Epstein. Haven't you heard?"

We played the video again. I paid close attention at 1:40, while Coop looked on, grinning from ear to ear.

My jaw dropped.

"CuppaJo?" he asked.

I'm not sure if I did the right thing. Maybe I was trying to prove Steve actually exists.

Is Steve a dream . . a fig leaf of my imagination? Not sure . . .

There. I've just done it. I got Steve to wipe everything. He wiped the past clean away and started afresh. A new look on both websites.

I proved he exists . . . by remote control.

I'm in Toronto right now. Today is the longest day of the year. It's 11:30pm here. The Sun has set . . . dark now. I'm readying myself to step into the 3 green laser beam and wormhole myself over to see Muirgheal in Northern Ireland.

I haven't seen her in a week and a bit. I miss her so much. We're in love. But my roots in Toronto are deep, and I have to return here all the time to chop them away one by one. One day we'll marry . . . together forever already though . . . just a piece of paper to seal it up. And the 2 rings. We must have a most memorable pair of rings. Her maiden name. My name. And the O'Neill name. It'll be a big one if it's going to have 3 crests on each one.

There are big things happening in Mourne and I need to go back there.

Think Peace, Agent Weebley. Peace. Don't think about the problems that lie in wait after I see Muirgheal. I will need to prepare for battle soon after my arrival. Epstein and Agent Heggle need to know the new battle plan, so they can rally the forces of good to help me. I haven't spoken to them in so long. I've been slipping in and out of County Down without announcing my presence . . . only going there to see Muirgheal.

Muirgheal. A lovely woman. We stayed at The Royal Marine a couple of times. The Fitzpatrick Castle one time. Dublin. Love the place. She was bluy before she met me, and so was I.

Bluy.

I love her Northern Irish accent. I gave her a dozen roses one time. They were dyed bluy. That put a smile on her face.

Muirgheal.

She's the last effing good thing about Dublin. I couldn't go back there without her.

So here I go. The 3 green luminescent beams spinning away like 3 strands of superhuman DNA. In a few seconds I'll be at her doorstep giving her a big hug once again. She makes me happy.

Stepping in. Peace out.