Paranormal Investigator and A Few of My Beliefs

I attended a lecture on a particular paranormal subject, at a library, almost a month ago.  That tells you about how much time, I've had, lately, to actually blog about something that interests me.  Most of the time, I have to deal with things in my life I'd rather not have to deal with- but that's reality for ya.  I pepper my reality with brief times of relief on Fartbook... er... Facebook, mostly, because commenting or posting on Facebook takes less time than doing a blog post.  To each his or her own.  :)

The lecture I went to was about ghost hunting and the woman giving the lecture belonged to an organization that has been around for a number of years and they have done a lot of investigations.  She seemed to know what she was talking about.  A large group of ordinary people had showed for the lecture and Q & A.

The lecture got me thinking about a lot of things that I experienced in my past.

I believe in ghosts and things that fall under the paranormal heading for a number of reasons.  I've talked about those reasons on this blog in the past but to those who are relatively new to this blog that I've been doing since 2007, my reasons, in no particular order are:

1- I've lived in a house that was haunted.  The entire family, our friends and even people we didn't know that well, saw and heard many unexplained incidents such as: chairs moving by themselves, laughter coming from our attic when no one was up there, the lights and TV going off and on, whispers of your name next to your ear while attempting to sleep, blood running down the walls, something pulling sheets off of a bed while you are attempting to sleep, black, smoke-like formations rushing past doorways, dolls' heads moving completely around by themselves, running footsteps being heard, coming up from the basement stairs up to the door leading to the hallway (when no one was there) and so on.

Some of this shit, that went on, I think I've purposefully forgotten, to avoid needless trauma.

If you've read this far without thinking me insane, wanting to mock me and everyone else who had to go through the shit we went through or wanting to debate me or point out how one or more things can easily be scientifically explained- then congratulations are in order for you.  Kudos!  It means you likely have an open mind.  Otherwise, if you're here to debate me or do any of the other things I mentioned above, feel free to move on to the next blog about how someone's kid and their latest "hysterical" antic that everyone is dying to know about.  Or something equally mundane.  I'm not interested and will not respond, as you would probably like, to anything contrary that you have to say.  I've heard it before and wasn't impressed.  We, meaning the dozens of us who went through the hell of living there or visiting there, know what we went through and tried "scientifically" explaining away everything that happened.  Didn't work.  End of story.

I might add... and I will...

The only thing more irritating and frustrating to me than an overzealous disbeliever in anything they can't see or explain is an overzealous Christian trying to push their faith down your throat.  Giving someone the benefit of a doubt is not the same as being gullible.  Either person who displays this type of behavior is showing their arrogance and close mindedness.  It's also a sign of someone who NEEDS to feed their ego to tear down one's ideas or beliefs with whatever well written malarkey that they can come up with.  Just because it is well written or that person has the last word- it does not make them right.   

2- My wife has spoken to the spirit of her deceased grandfather one night, while I was in bed and he gave her details about me that he couldn't have known, because he died three decades before I was even born.  I've had several relatives see and talk to dead relatives, whether they were on their deathbeds in homes or hospitals or when they were just standing around, not doing anything in particular.  Feelings of peace would usually accompany them while these incidents would happen.

3- I've also had some flashes or images come into my mind, while awake, of things that have happened.  Most of those things (images) were of trivial matters.  When these images would come into my mind, I would feel like I should remember them.  I don't know why that feeling would come over me but it did.  A month or two later and the image of the incident in my mind actually became a reality.

The one "picture" that I got in my head was of something that I didn't even know about or what it was and had never seen a picture of it before- until I was older, in school.  It came to me when I was around four years old.  It was a picture of a nuclear bomb going off.  Bright mushroom cloud, everything being caught on fire, vaporized and so on.  The whole bit.  It was happening, I figured out later in life, in the same direction where a major city, about thirty miles away from where I live now, is located.  I'm 48 years old and it is an image in my mind as horrifying and clear as it was when I was four years old.

4- I used to read whole decks of cards.  Didn't matter which deck or where it came.  They weren't in any order. I didn't cheat by marking any sides or had cards that were bent.  I'd simply look at each face down card, say what it was, suit and number, turn it over and it would be what it said I knew it was going to be.  Then I'd re-shuffle the cards again, predict the cards, again, correctly and then, one day, I thought to myself, This is too weird and I stopped doing it, altogether.

5- There is another thing I've been involved in, paranormally speaking, but I'm not mentioning it because it would take too long to explain and I'm afraid I'd get a lot of backlash in comments that I'd rather not read because, well, I've heard it all before and sadly, most people are predictable.  :)  I'm not saying everyone is, but, if you've been around as long as I have, you already know the truth.  If you'd really and genuinely like to know what #5 is about, I'll tell you.

These days, I don't have any predictive imagery in my mind.  Nor do I attempt to predict cards or attempt transcendental meditation.  That last thing I just mentioned resulted in something that freaked me out a bit, not in a bad way, but I'm not going to go into it, either.

The paranormal investigator (one of many ghost hunters, so to speak,) brought all of her equipment, including dowsing rods, an EVP recorder, an EMF meter and a laptop computer showing orbs (spirits) she and others had videotaped during their investigations.  Later, she shared information about a tour through a place where people, in a nearby city, had reported experiencing spirits one way or another.  She didn't talk about the future tour much, in case you're wondering if she was there to make money off the local town folk.  She was there to demonstrate how the instruments worked, how her own personal experience as a child got her interested in the paranormal and answering any questions that people had about ghosts.

Many orbs ( or spirits)

She talked quite a bit about how her personal experience with spirits and how it told about and shown on TV, through reenactments.  The paranormal investigator was interviewed about the full apparition she saw of a little girl named Nora, sitting on the floor in a room, upstairs at her childhood home.

The woman also was there to investigate someone who had died at the library she was speaking at.  According to the dowsing rods and the EMF meter, something was definitely there and it was communicating what had happened when she died.  For one thing, she used to work in the same old building a long time ago and she was pregnant at the time.  Ever since my sister and her coworkers had been working at the library, they had heard talking, from out of nowhere and had seen things move (on their own?) while being employed at the library.  It wasn't a malicious spirit, obviously.  It just wanted to be acknowledged.

On her laptop computer, the investigator showed orbs, like I said and turned up the volume of strange, yet clear, disembodied voices.

There was a teenage girl, who worked at the library, who had an experience on a ghost hunting tour, a few months back, who was not associated with the investigator.  She told us about how she thought a spirit from the place she toured had come back home with her.  She said she could feel "him" touch her arms, at times, and how it felt cold or like being brushed by spider webs.  This spirit, she said, had also displayed non-malicious behavior toward her but the investigator advised her that she should explain to the spirit that he was dead and should move on to the other side.  Her family, who had also gone on the same tour, also heard voices "from out of nowhere" and felt things.

The other side, what happens after death, call it Heaven or what you will, is also something I happen to believe in for a great many number of personal reasons, NOT religious reasons.

The paranormal investigator seemed pretty genuine to me.  I had an open mind about it because of things I and others close to me have witnessed and experienced.  Btw, I'm quite open to any of your own experiences, concerning the paranormal in the comment section, or if you'd like, through email or Fartbook... er.. I mean Facebook.

Supposedly, I'm supposed to get a nice pair of dowsing rods from the link I already provided, as a gift, from my sister, for my birthday, October 3rd.  I'm not saying I completely believe in dowsing rods but they may be of some personal good to me.  I'm not saying anything beyond that.

Take care, everyone! 

Toadie in "Haunted Bordello" (Part 2)

Click right here, folks, in order to read the first part of this classic type of ultra fine and sophisticated American Literature so you can make sense of the whole story. I wouldn't want you to be "lost in the woods", so to speak. Or would I? Bwa-ha-ha-ha-ha.

Upon closer inspection, the slightly mentally challenged Toadie realized the people in the old photograph were his great-great grandparents, Gregory McKelly and Donna Mae McKelly. Toadie remembered seeing similar photos of his great-great grandparents in a family album when he was a kid. His sweet Auntie Kay had told him that "his great-great grandparents were outlaws of the Old West and were fond of drinkin', raising a lil' hell and robbin' banks- but that they were beloved by many because of their good-natured sense of humor and the fact that they gave a lot of their money away."

While looking intently at the photo, the characters in the photo mysteriously began to move. Instead of his late grandfather pointing his gun upward, he was dropping his arm downward, allowing the gun to point to the side. Then, surprisingly, the photo began to change in varying colors. But what was most unnerving, was that the frame around the photo changed, as well, with the indented pattern in the wood, unraveling, curling into twisted flowers, then returning back into it's original form.

Toadie jumped back, tripping over an old brass spittoon and screamed. The photograph immediately returned to it's original state, which was followed by laughter echoing from the rooms upstairs. These were the same rooms where prostitutes cheerfully entertained patrons of the saloons by humping them until their semen had been thoroughly depleted from their scrotal sac.

Toadie stuttered a bit, expelled a long, awkward fart and finally was able to blurt out, "Toadie needs Valerie to come here!"

When Valerie joined him, Toadie explained what he had seen and that the people in the photograph were his great-great grandparents.

Startled, Valerie held Toadie tight and said, "That photo is remarkably clear for how old it is. It's like it was taken just a year ago."

Toadie said, nervously, "Toadie's afraid. Will you comfort Toadie by giving him head, please?"

Suddenly, a blonde haired woman, garbed in a black dress, was sitting on an old piano across the saloon. She had appeared from a gathering mist and, almost immediately, began to speak.

"If she doesn't suck the venom from your snake, Sugar Buns, I would be willing to give it a try."

Frozen with fright, Toadie and Valerie stared at the ghost, feeling helpless.

The ghost said, "The name's Annie and pleasure is my business."

She smiled, seductively and drifted over to where the engaged couple were standing.

Annie warned, "If you know what's good for you, you'll head on upstairs before "Bent Joe" Paulson comes in here. He doesn't like strangers in HIS TOWN."

Valerie paused anxiously, before inquiring, "Who's Bent Joe?"

The ghost circled around the brunette and whispered, "He's the most evil bastard you NEVER wanna lay eyes on, sweetie. He'll tear you apart, whether you want it or not."

Annie turned to Toadie and placed her cold hand on the crotch of his pants. Even though he was scared, Toadie still sported wood and drooled a bit. His "snake" drooled a bit, too.

Annie remarked, "Besides, if you two follow me upstairs, I promise you won't be bored." She giggled at that and gave Val a little peck on the cheek.

Without warning, the saloon doors were thrown open. A glowing orb passed through the entrance. It seemed to be burning with red flames. Annie, Val and Toadie could feel the hostility emanating from it.

"Time to go," warned Annie.

Toadie and Val quickly followed the ghost upstairs into one of the rooms. When they were inside, the old wooden door slammed shut.

Toadie and Valerie stared at each other, shaking. Toadie said, "Toadie doesn't see the hot blonde anymore."

Valerie gave him a stern look. "So you think she's hot, huh?"

Toadie pointed to his dick and said, "The penis doesn't lie." And then he laughed, scratched his ass and plopped onto the bed like a big sack of creamy, maggot-infested potatoes.

A few quiet moments passed until Valerie, aroused by the sight of Toadie's meaty totem pole, joined Toadie on the other side of the bed. She looked out the window and said, "Do you think we'll be okay in here for awhile?"

Toadie saw how the moonlight reflected on Valerie's face and allowed his gaze to travel down to the outline of her soft, firm breasts beneath her shirt. He imagined sucking on her tits and blowing his wad on them. But not vice versa, of course. Toadie would think that to be uncouth.

"Toadie loves you," said Toadie, "Toadie won't let anything happen to you."

Valerie leaned over, kissed her fiancee gently on the lips and complimented him. "You're so romantic, Toadie"

Toadie said, "Can Toadie fuck you in the ass now?"

No longer being able to hold herself back from the suave gentleman, Valerie took off her clothes. Toadie hurriedly removed his clothes, as well. Moments afterwards, the engaged couple were happily fornicating.

And then a mist appeared next to them. Annie made herself visible. Without asking if she could join in, she began rubbing Valerie's wet, glistening love button. At first, the ghost's hand was cold but then it quickly warmed up. Valerie moaned, realizing the ghost was back in their presence and was, nevertheless, enjoying her touch. Annie then turned her attention to Toadie, pulling his walloping prick from Valerie's wide open beaver gobbler and sucking it with terrific fervor.

Toadie shouted, "Hurrah!"

Further pleasures were exhibited and felt throughout the night. Bodily fluids were exchanged. Annie the ghost rode Toadie like a crazed, horny baboon. At one point, Valerie lapped at Annie's ghostly nips. And so on.

Abruptly, a fiery orb passed through the door and entered the room. Val, Toadie and Annie hadn't noticed. The orb slowly transformed into the spirit of "Bent Joe" Paulson. The cowboy was seething with rage as he shook his fists and screamed, "I'll teach you!"

Stay tuned for Part 3, the last chapter to this story, next time. Hope you have a great weekend!

Toadie in "Haunted Bordello" (Part 1)

Sure, I'm a little late with this Halloweenish type post entry... but do I care? Fuck no! My advice is to sit back, read this fine wholesome tale of insanity and mayhem and hold tight.

But before you jump in with both feet, you may want to check out this link and this link to bring you up to speed with this post, Toadie's latest adventure.

Toadie, a semi-retarded man and his girlfriend, Valerie, decided to move in together when they got back to Chicago after their "Christmas Trip" adventure. No longer was the 34 year old man under the care of his friends, Maggie and Rufus, though they did go to Valerie's apartment to see how he was doing every so often. They were, in fact, happily surprised to find that their younger cousin and somewhat dim-witted friend were moving along in their relationship to the point of being engaged to be married.

Then one morning...

Shaking the sleeping brunette from her sleep, Toadie leaned in close to his girlfriend's face and excitedly exclaimed, "Toadie wants to go on another road trip!"

Valerie, startled, opened her eyes and punched Toadie in the face, causing him to flip over the side of the bed and onto the floor. Toadie quickly got to his feet and much like an over-stimulated pet in dire craving for attention, he got back onto the bed.

Toadie said, "Toadie knows what Valerie wants for breakfast this morning."

Slightly annoyed but still curious, Valerie opened her eyes again and saw Toadie's impressive penis staring her in the face. Even though they had been fucking, quite frequently, since coming back home, she still couldn't believe how ginormous Toadie's dick was when was he hard. The only part of Toadie's anatomy that could equal the impressiveness of his schlong was his lengthy tongue; which gave Valerie many pleasurable, memorable experiences.

Valerie reached out and pulled Toadie's wang closer to her mouth. Just before taking it in, she looked at her lover's face and asked, "You're giving me the big sausage, again?" Toadie smiled and then said, "Only the best for my loving, gentle petunia ."

After Toadie and Valerie did the ol' "bump n' grind", the couple discussed taking another road trip. Toadie's normally successful methods of persuasion often left Valerie satisfied and bug-eyed.

A week later, the couple drove out onto the highway and set a course for Arizona. Along the way, they stopped at a diner for a quick lunch before heading back out onto the road. During the course of their lunch, Toadie looked up from his plate of food and watched what was happening on a television in the back corner wall. Valerie peered up from her burger to see Henry Paulson, in an interview, berating a reporter for bringing unwelcome facts to viewers and making him appear to be an unsympathetic bastard.

The former US Treasury Secretary and CEO of Goldman Sachs pointed toward the reporter and said, "The more accurate reason behind the Occupy Wall Street protest is that the majority of the poor and unemployed in this country are envious of the upper class. They want what the wealthier citizenry in this nation have- but since they don't feel they should put the effort forth to attain a better life for themselves, they will, instead, attend these radical protests in the hopes of swaying government decisions."

The reporter inquired, "So you don't feel that one possible reason behind the "Occupy" protests could be that the people are angry that the government is being influenced and manipulated by banks, corporations and the powerful one percent in America?"

Henry Paulson smirked for a second and then whispered, "The bottom feeders are just joining in the fray of this desperate act of futility instead of attempting to find employment."

The reporter asked, "What was that?"

Paulson said, loud enough to be heard, "I believe there are certain members of society who feel disenfranchised because of the current state of our economy."

Toadie leaned far to one side and butt burped a long, aromatic fart that wafted in the air and was inhaled by several elderly people in a nearby booth. The geriatrics suddenly clutched their throats and chests. George, an old gentleman sitting on the outside half of the booth, mumbled a short prayer before exclaiming, "Something is amiss!"

At that, George's head plopped down in a bowl of oatmeal. Important Information: The oatmeal was flavored with cinnamon powder and tiny, organically grown chunks of naturally sweet Granny Smith apples.

The old man in the oatmeal bowl laboriously exhaled, which produced from his mouth a bubble made of a combination of warm oats and two percent milk (and let's not forget those delicious apples!).

When Valerie and Toadie paid their bill, they returned to the car and drove into the state of Arizona. Their destination was the Grand Canyon. But after an hour of driving they became lost and confused. The joint they began smoking upon passing the state line might have had something to do with it. Who knows? I mean, it's not like I know the story or something.

Eventually, Val and Toadie completely went off the beaten track and wound up in a ghost town. Now, if you had been paying attention to the more northern portion of this blog post, you will have noticed a blog post title- which would, of course, given you a clue as to where this most amazing story was leading.

Ahem... and stuff.

Toadie and Val slowly drove into the long abandoned town. You could almost hear the eerie music in the background, but not quite, because Val had a radio station on that was playing Alternative music set at high volume. Toadie cocked his head and saw a few doors to old wooden shops and a saloon slam open and shut. He thought this odd because the air was still.

As they stopped in the middle of the small old western town in order to back up and turn around, the car made a chugging noise and then shook a little. Valerie looked down at her dashboard. The car had run out of gas. They sat there for a few moments, quiet in thought. The sun gradually made it's decent behind some far away mountains in the desert. Saguaro cacti covered most of the area they were in.

Toadie got out of the car and convinced himself that it was a good idea to go into one of the vacant buildings to search for anything that could help them. Valerie went into what was once a saloon and bordello. In the days of the Old West, this bordello had employed a dozen or so prostitutes. A woman by the name of Annie was the Madam of the place. She was a beautiful blonde haired, good-natured woman who had sucked many a cowboy off back in the day. It was rumored she had fallen in love with a cowboy named Joe.

When Toadie went past a wall in the saloon, he shook his head, curious and surprised at who he thought he saw in an old picture hanging on the wall. He took his key light out of his pocket, shined it toward the picture and upon closer inspection, he remembered seeing the people in the old photograph.

Stayed tuned for part two of this enchanting tale.

Hocus Pocus and Presto Change-o.  Here's the link for Part 2 of this stimulating, educational yarn.  :) 

The Incident At St. Mary's

Uncle Martin, Aunt Liv and their nephew, Tyler were sitting in their pew at St. Mary's Church, with hands folded in prayer. The priest, Father Wilkem, asked the parishioners to offer prayers, wishes and thoughts to The Lord.

The only thing Uncle Martin could think of at the moment, with his hands folded, was the twenty-something year old blonde haired college girl, sitting directly across from him, with the short, tight, black skirt and size D-cup titties and perfectly round ass.

Aunt Liv closed her eyes and prayed for Oprah Winfrey. She REALLY loved Oprah and was blessing Oprah for all of her good, charitable deeds throughout life and for giving all of those tax deductible free cars to "random" folks in her audience. Liv was sad that Oprah's last show was several weeks ago and that she was moving on with other projects on her own network but Aunt Liv just knew that deep in her heart that the magical Oprah, Queen of Daytime Talk Shows, Woman of The Year, Fortune 500's Sweetheart of The Decade and gosh, The Best Actress The World Had Ever Set Eyes Upon would somehow make it. And really BE THERE for her and all of her faithful followers in upcoming shows on her new network. Gosh, that Oprah was a saint.

She just didn't understand why the Catholic Church wouldn't induct her in the Saints Hall of Fame. She shook her head. Someone thought they heard a marble rattling around.

Tyler, a junior in high school, wriggled uncomfortably next to his Aunt Liv and cut a slow, rumbling fart against the wood of his seat. "Amen," said Tyler, under his breath. Tyler smiled and looked across the pews and caught a glimpse of Cheryl, his classmate in English. He thought, What a babe!

Tyler began imagining several scenarios where he was banging Cheryl over the long fold out table at the school cafeteria. Everyone was staring at them. Some students were applauding. Before you could say, "Alakazam!", Tyler was pitching a sizable tent in his slacks.

Right after loosening his tie, trying to suck in a little more air for his brain, Tyler heard Father Wilkem ask his parishioners to please stand up. With his fantasy temporarily put on pause, Tyler and the rest stood up. A few more readings from the bible went by and then Communion Ceremony began.

Everyone formed two lines to go up to the Priest, before the altar, to receive the blessed body of Christ that was in the form of a very thin, white, unleavened piece of round bread. A wafer.

These wafers were actually quite tasty and much better than the way they are described. I used to eat 'em like cookies when I was in parochial school. They couldn't become Christ, though, until the priest waved his magical wand (not his penis) and did the incantations. Sure, they still looked like wafers after he was done saying, "Presto! Change-o!" or something like that but I tell ya what... they tasted just a wee little bit better when you knew you were eating an ancient carpenter from biblical times. Yessir! Oh, wait a minute... I'm in the middle of a story aren't I?

Moving onward...

Each parishioner slowly marched toward the priest, for the Communion Ceremony and said, "Amen" after the priest said his special words.

Note: The priest says his special words that require the secret password of AMEN so the parishioner may then receive the blessed, newly transformed wafer that looks basically the same as it did before the priest made his incantations to change it to bite sized, easily digestible pieces of Christ. I farted. Amen.

Still, moving onward...

When everyone began returning to their pews to sit down and quietly, devoutly place the wafers on their tongues to eat it or allow it to dissolve like a breath mint, the parishioners pretended like they were praying and thinking deep, holy thoughts and other good ideas. Even as Tyler received his magic wafer, even as he said his Amen in of front Father Wilkem, he was still thinking of plunging his meat sword deep into Cheryl's quivering cunt. Some of the church goers noticed Tyler was sporting wood but Tyler could care less as Father Wilkem placed the host wafer into Tyler's sweaty hands.

Suddenly, a dark haired man threw open the front doors of the church entrance. His name was Intenso.

Intenso stormed through the middle aisle of the church, determination on his face. Dressed entirely in a black cloak, Intenso raised his hand towards the buxom blonde that Uncle Martin had been having impure thoughts about less than twenty minutes ago.

Dana, the college girl that Uncle Martin had been ogling, began to squirm around. Soon, a slow, lingering moan escaped from her O-shaped mouth. Her temperature began to rise. Her pussy began lubricating, soaking her bright pink thong.

Dana stood up, abruptly and began tearing her clothes off. Heavy breasts were unleashed from her bra. Dana's fingers probed her cunt inside her thong. She ripped the rest of her clothing off and began spreading her thick, swollen piss flaps. Intenso slowly twisted his hand, an evil smile appeared on his face. Dana made a loud warbling sound come through her throat and out of her mouth.

Pussy juice gushed from Dana's cunt. Everyone in the parish church gasped, in shock and desire, as Dana fingered her clit with such blurring speed, that her eyes rolled to the back of her head. A banshee cry came out of the young woman's mouth as she spread her arms and legs. Intenso twisted his hand in the air the opposite direction. Now you could see Dana's clit, and cunt lips being pinched and fondled. Her nipples stood straight up, towards heaven, as Dana bent over backwards over the pew behind her.

Half of the parish was hard or wet from watching the spectacle.

Father Wilkem broke out into an award-winning prayer to The Lord.

Soon, Intenso turned his attention to the other female parishioners and began his routine of masterful telepathy and manipulation of genitals with them.

The parishioners moaned, allowing wave after wave of orgasm hit them. They all took off their clothes and their cries of pleasure, joy and intense emotions took them over. Pussy juice splattered on the floor. When some of the men saw this, they could control their lust no more. They instantly dropped their trousers and furiously wanked off, spurting streams of thick jism all across the church pews. An old man was hit in the eye with one blob of sperm and he fell, crashing his head into the small table in the middle of the aisle. The elderly gentleman's head was split open on the collection plate on the table. Blood soon ran everywhere and dribbled off the table's sides.

Father Wilkem asked for guidance from The Lord as he stroked his penis, uncontrollably.

Sister Bethany fell to her knees and screamed, suffering and enjoying waves after soul-enlightening waves of orgasms ripple throughout her body and hit her deep into her G-spot. Sister Bethany's nipples felt tingly, like they were almost on fire. A puddle of her pussy juice formed around her. There was enough there to baptize an infant, if one so desired.

Many of the parishioners were squirming and thrashing about. Various spots and puddles of human ejaculation and vaginal secretions were causing severe safety hazards during this unique Sunday church service. People began slipping and falling. A man in his mid thirties fell and cracked his head wide open on the top headboard of the old wooden pew. Blood soon gushed out of his forehead where there was a messy gash. Other people fell, as a result of slippage, often while moaning during the ecstasy and struggle of constant orgasms.

Intenso quickly whirled his arm around. The Master of Orgasms stood in the middle of church. Naked bodies writhed on the floor. Penises spurted heavy loads. Balls drained and filled up, magically, once again. Snatches dribbled and gushed their wetness. One man dipped his holy wafer into a small puddle of pussy juice, soaking it until is was soggy. He then gave thanks to The Lord, ate it and promptly rammed his penis into Sister Bethany's backdoor, her holy stink eye, if you will.

Her mouth made a funny noise right then.

While Tyler was jerking off, he contemplated the sound Sister Bethany emitted and thought it sounded like, "Moooo."

Some of the parishioners had tortured looks on their faces. Some expressed a mix of pain and pleasure. Either way, Intenso was satisfied. The man in the black cloak threw his head back and laughed, heartily.

And then, before you could say, "Hit me with your best money shot", Intenso left the church. A few minutes lurched by as the church goers' fever of seemingly unending lust finally subsided. They looked at each other, embarrassed and commenced to putting their tattered, wet clothes back on their trembling bodies. Many of the parishioners had passed out. A few died of cardiac arrest and stroke. Others were helping incapacitated others with their clothes.

Dizzy and feeling quite used up, the parishioners stumbled and lurched out of the entrance of the church. A few of them fell down the stone stairs, from a major lack of bodily fluids and low blood sugar. Some men were in pain due to severe semen drainage from their balls. They were light-headed, speaking in an unthinking, mumbling sort of way. The women stared, straight forward, zombie-like. Some of them, as well, tripped down the stairs. Leaves from the nearby trees were blown against their bare, sticky legs and stuck snugly to their slick flesh of their thighs and calves.

Passerby saw the people tumbling down the steps. A few ran to help them up and take them to the hospital or aid them in another positive way. Some only stopped to take pictures with their cell phones. Tyler smiled. He had just fucked Cheryl in the ass, while pinching her nipples over a church pew. Going to church wasn't as bad as he thought it was going to be.

What started out as a normal, uneventful church service turned into quite an unforgettable day for the parishioners of St. Mary's Church.

Interesting Links, A Movie Clip and More

Check out the links below, friends and neighbors! There are things here that will likely interest and/or entertain you for hours on end. Enjoy!

Cooking The History Books: The Thanksgiving Massacre

Global Warming Skepticism

Does Death Exist? New Theory Says 'No'

Velvet Worm News

Man Says Police Forcibly Collected Urine Sample

Top Documentary Films

Why GMO Foods Have Failed At Producing Healthy Food For More People

Paranormal News

The Creature From Jekyll Island

Propaganda, PR and PsyOps

Near Death Experience Research Foundation

The Advantages and Disadvantages of Penises and Vaginae (My guest post on It's A Lollipop World)

Buffalo Bill Dance

A Unique Alternative-The Conclusion

Ethan looked at the spirit with mild bewilderment at what it had said. His hand rubbed Clara's smooth butt. He smiled. There wasn't much that could surprise him now in comparison to the event of what had just transpired. With this in mind, he wasn't too concerned about what she was about to tell him. Having sexual intercourse with a ghost, he thought, would likely be the most surprising thing that could possibly ever happen in his lifetime.

As it would be for most of us.

Clara looked deep into Ethan's eyes, in complete seriousness, and said, "Daria killed me."

Clara paused, momentarily, then said, "It happened almost a month ago yet to me it seems like yesterday."

Ethan gave the beautiful, slightly luminescent spirit on top of him a stern look and asked, "She killed you? Why?"

Clara continued, "A little over a month ago, Ken and I were working in the same office and we would ocassionally go out to a restaurant, eat lunch together and talk. We were just two co workers getting to know one another."

"You must be talking about something that happened before I became friends with Ken, "stated, Ethan, "I don't remember Ken mentioning you. And I'm sure he would have mentioned someone as hot as you."

Clara laughed for a moment and then said, "Thank you."

The spirit slowly raised up towards the ceiling from the top of Ethan's hairy chest and dissipated in the air. Ethan looked around and asked, "Where are you?"

Clara slowly materialized, nude as she was before, at his bedside to pick up where she left off. Illumination from the streetlight showed through his bedroom curtains. The light passed through Clara without leaving a shadow on the wall. Ethan was relieved when she returned.

Clara explained, "Daria had just begun dating your friend and my co worker at the time. She had seen Ken and I going to restaurants together on a couple occasions and she was becomingly increasingly jealous. She thought Ken was cheating on her with me. This was pure insecurity and paranoia on Daria's part because Ken and I were just co workers and only beginning to become friends."

Ethan pushed, "Go on. I'm listening."

"Ken told me about her increasing jealousy and I told him that maybe it would be for the best for everyone if I didn't have lunches with him anymore. After a few minutes of debate from him about this, he agreed with what I was saying. So we stopped. We only saw each other in the office. After a couple days passed, it seemed as if everything was alright. But Daria was still jealous, according to him, still thinking that he and I were together from time to time. He told me their arguments about our supposed affair were getting bad. And then one night, her fury over something she was only imagining, took over any reasoning she might have had in her little mind."

Ethan knew his friend Ken was faithful. Even obedient. Whatever Daria told him to do, he would do, no matter how ridiculous or insulting it seemed to him. She was his manipulator and he would agree to whatever she wanted.

Ethan shook his head, dreading what the spirit was likely going to say next.

"Daria came into this house- my house, invaded this bedroom, where we are now, clamped my mouth shut while I was asleep and slit my throat open with a knife."

Suddenly, blood began pouring out of an abruptly developing gash in Clara's neck and splattered upon the mattress. The mattress became soaked with gore. Ethan could hear drops of blood hit the wooden bedroom floor, as well. Closing his eyes, Ethan pleaded, "Please... Stop."

The blood disappeared. Clara remained.

"Oh, fuck," said Ethan, realizing his friend's girlfriend was a murderer. Dismayed at what this meant, Ethan shook his head and added, "Now what should I do?" Then he answered his own question. "I have to call the police."

Clara explained further, "The police have already questioned her and asked where she was that night. She told them she was in bed, asleep. They could neither confirm or not confirm she was in her apartment that night. Daria was also careful not to leave fingerprints, using latex gloves on her hands and small bags that covered her shoes."

"Why didn't Ken mention you were killed here or any of this before I moved in?" inquired Ethan, with a small measure of anger.

Clara touched his face and said, "He didn't want to frighten you in any way and he knew you were desperate in your attempt to find a place to live in this area."

And then Clara smiled.

Gradually, Clara ascended upwards and then slowly made her way down upon Ethan. Her head maneuvered towards his groin. Gently, the spirit took his penis into her mouth and she commenced sucking the head of his cock. Ethan's hands roamed through her wavy, dark red hair and her backside. What she was doing felt so good to him. Clara continued, easily engulfing his manhood inside her throat, sucking and licking upon it until he had a mind blowing orgasm.

"OOOOHHH," cried out Ethan. Spurts of semen shot through her head and rained down all over the sheets of his bed.

After they held each other for awhile, Ethan moved away from the spirit. He then flipped over on top of her, thrusting his prick inside Clara, relishing how very real she truly felt. Almost an hour of passion had passed before they climaxed, intensely, together.

Not long after the sun had risen, there was a sudden knock on the front door. Clara disappeared from his arms without notice. Ethan looked around the room, actually feeling alone this time. He sat up on the edge of the bed and pulled his jeans on. Ethan thought Ken and Daria might have seen something of his in their car while moving and were bringing it back to his place.

When he opened the door, sure enough, Ken and Daria were standing there, with a box full of electronic equipment.

Daria smirked and said, "We found some more of your stuff in the trunk and figured you might want this, maybe, before we see you later tonight." At that point she pulled a TV remote control out of the box and tossed it to Ethan. Ethan, tired from the hours of lovemaking and conversation with Clara, fumbled for the remote and dropped it on the doorstep. To add insult to injury, the plastic casing cracked and the batteries fell out. It looked broken.

"Did you make any coffee yet, dude?" asked Daria, "Because you look like shit."

Still trying to comprehend all of the recent events leading up to this moment, Ethan mumbled, "Just had a rough night." Then he added, "But it was an amazing night, as well." Ethan smiled.

Daria said, obviously bored, "That's good. So are you going to make us some coffee or what?" Ken was behind Daria, looking like he was embarrassed by how she was trying to order his friend around. Ethan looked away from him and answered, "Sure." Ethan realized he was going to have to have a talk with Ken about Daria and what crime she had committed there- after he called the police. For the moment, he didn't want to reveal what he knew or what he thought he knew to either Ken or Daria. And what exactly was he going to say to the police about any of this, he wondered.

When Daria and Ken walked into the living room, Daria glanced around, as if she were looking for something. She had a puzzled expression on her face. Slightly frustrated, she joined Ken on the sofa.

While Ethan was in the kitchen, plugging the coffee maker into the wall, he heard a familiar wail coming from the living room. He knew it was Clara, crying out. And then he heard a piercing scream. It felt like his heart was going to stop beating.

Ethan ran into the living room and saw Clara, standing behind Daria. Clara had her arm around Daria, tightly binding her. Daria screamed again, while attempting to escape from Clara's supernatural strength. Clara increased the pressure, causing Daria to shout, "Get off me, you dead fucking bitch!"

With her other arm, Clara reached from behind and produced a knife in her hand. Daria looked at the knife and declared, "I hid that fucking knife here where the cops wouldn't find it." Ken and Ethan saw the dried blood on the knife and remained still, amazed at the sight before them.

Quicker than Ethan could say a word, Clara pressed the knife blade to Daria's throat. Slowly, Clara pulled the knife across Daria's flesh, splitting her neck open. Massive gushes of blood bubbled forth from the widening wound. Daria tried to speak but her vocal cords were severed.

Before Daria closed her eyes, dying, Clara held the knife in front of Daria's fading gaze. The spirit said, "I found the knife." Clara released Daria, allowing her murderer to drop to the floor. Just as Daria's head smacked on the floor, Clara vanished.

When the shock wore off, Ken called the police department and when the cops arrived, the men told them that Daria had slit her own throat and killed herself. They also added that before she died, Daria admitted to having killed Clara in a fit of jealous rage- which Daria didn't admit, though it was true, but that was what they had agreed on telling the police. They told the cops that Daria felt she couldn't bear the burden of what she had done and had to pay for her crime.

Later, the police matched Daria's fingerprints to the knife she used to kill Clara. And neither Ken or Ethan had traces of blood or evidence of a struggle on their clothes and skin. This meant to them that Ken and Ethan couldn't be suspects in either deaths. With the evidence presented, the police closed the case of Clara's murder and considered Daria's death to be a result of suicide.

Two days passed before Clara materialized again in Ethan's bedroom. The spirit glowed faintly, floating from the opposite end of the bed to lay by Ethan. She smiled, then said, "I thought you would leave this place after what has transpired here."

Ethan shook his head and replied, "Not if you stay here with me."

"It doesn't bother you that I'm a ghost?"

Ethan answered, "No. At first, yes. But now I believe I'll choose the unique alternative of being with you instead of a living, breathing ordinary woman."

Clara grinned and asked, "And why is that?"

Ethan smiled and continued, "Because you are beautiful, honest and more alive than any other woman I've had a relationship with."

Clara kissed Ethan. For the remainder of the night, they continued their lovemaking. And for the remainder of Ethan's life on Earth and afterwards, they stayed together.

The Dropa Stones and The Dropa People

I've always found "ancient alien" theories fascinating. And I find, with more and more information, ancient texts and artifacts surfacing up from our past, that the probability of an alien race visiting Earth long ago is pretty damn high. I've read and heard what the naysayers say and have written and I still find it odd that they continue to be incredibly close minded. My motto has always been: Nothing is 100%, absolutely concrete. What was true yesterday may be suddenly or gradually studied to be found false today. You see it all the time.

Authors and others in the past and present have written and told of many encounters human civilization has had with ancient astronauts or ancient aliens that have visited Earth. There are those who believe that this contact is connected with the origins or development of human cultures, technologies and religions.

I've talked about this subject before in a previous post, showing artwork of the past that uncannily seems to exhibit alien spacecraft, technology and a connection to those who may have witnessed such phenomena.

I've been doing research on the net about The Dropa Stones. Maybe you've heard of them. There's no way for me to tell unless you let me in on that. Regardless, here's what I've found out about these intriguing artifacts found over 40 years ago:

The Dropa Stones, 716 disc plates or disks, were first discovered in 1938, when a archaeological expedition led by Chi Pu Tei, stumbled across a cave high in the mountains that border China and Tibet.

It was obvious to the archaeologists that the cave had been occupied by primitive people from long ago. This cave is said to be around 10 - 12,000 years old. This cave also connected to other caves that were more like a complex system of tunnels and underground store rooms than anything else.

The walls of the caves were squared and glazed. They described them as if they were actually cut into the mountain with a source of extreme heat.

On the walls of the caves were carved pictograms of the heavens, the Earth, the sun, the moon and the stars. Each were connected with lines.

The most incredible discovery, half-buried beneath the floor of the cave, was an odd stone disk, which was approximately nine inches in diameter and three quarters of an inch thick. In the center was a perfect 3/4″ hole, with a fine groove spiralling out from the center, resembling that of an old phonograph record.

The groove, on further inspection, was a continuous line of weird carved hieroglyphic writing.

Dr. Tsum Um Nui, in 1962, had the difficult task of transcribing the character from the disks to paper.

He estimated that they were at least 12,000 years old, with writing so small he had to use a magnifying glass to see it clearly, much of the writing had worn away, but he was so puzzled at how these primitive people could of created these stones and how they managed the almost microscopic writing.

Eventually the doctor made progress and a word emerged, then another and another until he made out an entire sentence. Incredibly, he had broken the code.

Dr. Tsum Um Nui, discovered that the stones were written by a people who called themselves, the “Dropa”, but what he was reading 12,000 years later didn't make much sense to him. However, when he had finished his translation, he wrote up a paper on his findings and presented it to the University for publication. The reaction he received was not what he expected.

The Peking Academy of Prehistory expressly forbade the doctor to publish or even speak about his findings. The world, the Academy decided, would not know about the “Dropa” and their fateful journey to Earth. The information could bring about disastrous socio-economic consequences, according to the academy. Eventually, against their will or with their approval... No one is absolutely sure... Dr. Tsum Um Nui did, in fact, publish his findings and entitled it "The Grooved Script Concerning Spaceships Which, as Recorded on the Discs, Landed on Earth 12,000 Years Ago." Admittedly, a long freakin' title. The important thing is, is that he believed in his work enough to get it out to the public.

In his published findings, Dr. Tsum Um Nui related the following:

The Dropa Stones tell an amazing story of an alien space probe from a distant planet that crash landed in the mountains of the Himalayas of which the occupants of the space craft, the Dropa, found refuge in the caves of the Baian-Kara-Ula mountains. The members of the Han tribe, whom were occupying neighboring caves, were fearful of the Dropas, and misunderstood their intentions. In turn the Han tribe hunted down the aliens, killing some in the process.

Here is an excerpt from one of the transcribed stones: "The Dropa came down from the clouds in their aircraft. Our men, women, and children hid in the caves ten times before sunrise. When at last they understood the sign language of the Dropa, they realized that the newcomers had peaceful intentions...."

The Dropa Stones then go on to say that the Dropas became stranded on Earth when they were unable to repair their disabled craft. Not being able to return to their home planet they learned from the Han tribe how to survive.

Interestingly enough, there is also an ancient Chinese tale that tells of small, slender people of a yellow hue that descended to the Earth from the clouds and who were shunned by everyone because of their ugliness. Today, the isolated mountain region of the Himalayans is inhabited by two tribes of people- the Dropa and the Han. No one in the scientific community has been able to prove that either tribe is of any known race on Earth. They are of neither Chinese nor Tibetan descent.

Another wild thing about this is that their heights don't exceed 3 ft 6 in and they weigh no more than between 38-52 pounds. The physical features correspond exactly to the skeletal remains found in the caves in 1938. The Dropa clan has unique features in that they are extremely thin, have disproportionate large heads, are yellow in color and have sparse hair on their bodies. Even more convincing that the Dropa have some relationship to the people who made the Dropa stone is that they have large inset eyes that are not Asian in aspect, but have pale blue irises.

In 1968, 6 years after Tsum Um Nui decoded the Dropa stones, a Russian scientist, W. Saitsew, conducted scientific tests on the disks that yielded some very interesting and peculiar results. The physical properties of the disks contained high concentrations of cobalt and other metals. This combination of metals would have made the stone so hard that it would have been virtually impossible for the primitive people to carve the hieroglyphs, especially with such small characters. When the discs had been tested with an oscillograph, it was discovered that the discs had once been electrically charged and had functioned as electrical conductors as well. When placed on a special turntable they vibrated or hummed in an unusual rhythm as though an electric charge was passing through them. Like some part of an electrical circuit? Who knows?

Who knows, for sure, about any of this? And I guess that's my point. Why completely close your mind that it did not happen? To me, that's just as "wacky" as saying that all of it did happen just that way, for certain. The thing is this: The story of the Dropa Stones and the Dropa people is just one of a number of stories from ancient cultures that claim their descendents came to Earth from the heavens. And having an open mind about this and any other seemingly impossible phenomena, I believe, will only allow you to grow in wisdom.

Strange What Is And Isn't Accepted

What I'll be ranting about today is from the point of view of someone living in the U.S. This post will be about the odd general beliefs of American culture, though many of these beliefs are shared by the rest of the world's populace. Enjoy. Think. Scratch your ass. Or all of the above.

ACCEPTED

Corporate greed and greed, in general is perfectly acceptable. When this society hears of corporate greed as in the case of Goldman Sachs, the mortgage bankers who routinely screw people out of money, giving exorbitant amounts of money to their CEO's, it makes the news for a couple days. Then the public yawns, when some form of corporate greed is exposed and says, "Well, what can you do?" and keeps working to pay their bills, raise their families and repeats the routine the next day. It's an old story. Pathetic and true. Any outrage may last a day at the most, if there is any.

We're encouraged, in the U.S., from an early age to adulthood that the accumulation of money and material things is the normal course to go in one's lifetime. Money is the end all-be all of existence, after all. And the void in your life must be filled with crap bought at the store, mall or online. Having enough currency to be secure and have a safe place to live in is simply not enough. Enough is never enough for us. We're fat? Yep. Have too many toys, trinkets and electronic gadgets? Sure. The rest of the world hates us? You bet. Do we turn a blind eye to what we are?

Well... Is the sun hot?

NOT ACCEPTED

I'm surprised that the English dictionary doesn't define a deviate as someone who believes life can be enjoyed by experiencing the simplest of things. You know. The sight of a flowing river or mountain. Love. Peace. A drive through the country. Creating something positive. Sharing something of yourself.

Eh, I guess someone like that would be called old fashioned, out of place. A real nonconformist! A real nonteam player! You better hang that illogically thinking head of yours in shame, freak! Your kind is not welcome and you shall be shunned!

ACCEPTED

War. What goes with greed better or is more associated with that cultural disease than acts of war? Well, I mean other than vast, pointless loss of life, whether it's military personnel or civilian. War is accepted, sometimes thought of as patriotic, even, and happily used to rob someone of their land and/or natural resources. Doesn't matter what innocent people are killed. Those civilians' deaths may make the news that day or not. Doesn't matter to the public. You can tell because we allow it to happen. That's called encouragement.

War is often celebrated- with the giving out of medals to people who kill other people, parades, banners or news of a battle triumph. Often, it will be explained away as perfectly acceptable using various excuses to justify it with the history-proven reliability tools of manipulation and propaganda.

NOT ACCEPTED

Talking. Listening. Understanding. Peace.

ACCEPTED

Celebrity or wannabe-celebrity worship. We can throw youth in the pot, as well. Our society and our media glorifies the rich, famous, young, thin or those trying desperately to be any of those things. That type of societal sickness has always been a great source of ridicule for me. Who's responsible? Media. Magazines. TV producers/networks. Ourselves, for buying into that shit.

Reality TV is as far removed from reality as you can get. It is all poorly scripted hogwash. The attention needy fucks on those low budget (to the networks advantage) shows are advised to act this way or that but they can't even convincingly do that. If I want to watch fiction, I'll watch a real TV show. Give me real actors and a believable storyline, for chrissakes! Or give me an interesting documentary! Anything but reality tv slop.

Youth is overrated, as well. Most movies star young actors these days. Older, more believable and interesting actors have been pushed to the sidelines. Most commercials are geared for the 18-24 demographic with the unnearned spending money mommy and daddy gave to them. My motto: Fuck 'em! That goes for those who cater to them, in any way, especially.

NOT ACCEPTED

Not paying attention to any of them. They have no more value than the rest of us.

ACCEPTED

The narrow-minded religious beliefs of organized religions. You could easily demonstrate that this, too, can be connected to greed and war through the uses and sources of books, newspapers, Internet, simple observation and common sense. Try it. It's fun. But I can't be held accountable if your brain starts to hurt from thinking differently. Just sayin'.

NOT ACCEPTED

Believing in things that most people scoff at. Examples: Ghosts, Extraterrestrials, some things that can't be seen with your eyes, ESP, an afterlife (not necessarily a Christian version) and other phenomenon I could go on about but won't. If I did, I'd never finish this post.

Remember folks: There's no such thing as a 100% guarantee on what is real and not real. That goes for anything. What was scientifically proven or disproved in the past can be squashed like a bug tomorrow.

Keep your mind open for anything. And feel free to dwell upon anything I said. And let me know if your head starts to hurt. I need a good laugh.

Living In A Haunted House

My family and I lived in a house that was haunted a lot of the time and then, a few times, there would be minutes or hours of terror. My sister and I experienced it the most as kids. But still we had these freaky experiences all the way up until the time of adulthood. Our friends would, more than half the time they stayed overnight, would have something mysterious happen to them, too.

We didn't doubt their stories one bit.


Here's the rundown or list of bizarre things that happened between the time I was ten through... well, until a couple months ago. My sister experienced some different things that are mixed with these and she would experience some of the same things. So finally, here's the list:



* Loud shouting, at close proximity, in my nearly deaf ear. It would always shout my name "Kelly!" at least once a week. This was a nighttime routine. Of course I thought, it was someone else in the house. Mom, dad or sister. Checked it out. They all said it wasn't any one of them.



* Laughing and talking in the attic. No matter what time of day. It was checked. Nothing there was found. Sounded like they were having a drunken frat party or something to me. It was really a fun occasion (sarcasm) when you had to go underneath the door to the attic to take a shower and/or a dump in the main bathroom. Maybe they were giggling at my penis? Who knows?



* The TV going off and On. The whole family experienced this one pretty often. Always in the middle of the night when everyone was in bed. Any one of us would hear the Television turning on. The sound would be blaring from the TV. Normal TV shows, reruns, commercials and so on. Kind of hard to mistaken it for anything else. Someone would invariably wake up, hear this racket and go in the living room to see who up watching TV that late at night. No one would be there. The TV was sometimes ON. Other times -not.



* Mom would experience something black quickly passing her bedroom door. She told me about this happening on several occasions. It was too blurry to recognize it, she told me.






* Chairs going across the floor upstairs when anyone of us were in the basement. You could hear them scrape across the dining room floor. All of us, experienced that commonly, as well. We got used to that, after awhile. Not too exciting.



* Dolls having their heads turned backwards would be found in the morning. We knew each didn't do twist the doll heads. Semi-common, I think. I'm not the one to ask about that one.



* There were a lot of creaks and house settling events that could be explained away. Some couldn't. Anything to quell the fears was usually told by Dad.



* There were sounds my sister and I hear that made us almost crap ourselves in fear. For me, it was the LOUD running up the stairs and banging on the doors as I heard footsteps coming closer to my bed. This was in the middle of the night. I pounded my fists off on mom and dad's bedroom wall. In the morning, they said they heard nothing. They said they must have been asleep. I was a 16 year old guy whose hobbies included listening to Heavy Metal and lifting weights. They couldn't hear the pounding?





* There was also loud pounding from the other side of the basement door. This happened at least a couple times a year. There was nothing alive being kept down there.



Oh well. All in the past.





My sister has the worst experience -that I promised I would never tell mom or dad. So, I'm sorry to say -I'm not going to tell it here. It does involve something red, though. From that little info, you can likely guess what I mean from that. If not -sorry.



In our youth, I believe my sister and I, in the middle years of living there, perhaps encouraged the visitations or other paranormal activity going on by playing with the Ouija board. Those are very bad things to play with. Check the link to find good info on them.



We would ask it questions. Such as: What exact time, to the minute and second is Dad coming home. It would be correct 80 percent of the time, to the second. And you never knew when he would be coming home because of the job he had. Strange. Our cousin, a few times a month, would blindfold us to see if we were peaking. I wasn't. Pretty damn sure my sister wasn't either. We figured he (my cousin) was an unbiased spectator and he would tell us what answers it would give. He wrote them down.



Turns out, it would be incredibly accurate. Well, most of the time. We asked it when we would die. It was wrong about my cousin. Still alive, fortunately. We asked what was the name of the ghost or ghost that were living there. It kept repeating, "Gus" with that needle guide triangle thing. It also mentioned or spelled out that it was a "lower" criminal. Spirit. Whatever that means, for certain, I don't know. It kinda makes me think Gus was a burglar or something. A mischief maker, of sorts.



A couple years ago, my sister and I were sitting in the living room while we were having a loud family party for one reason or another. May Christmas. Not sure. Anyway, we both heard laughter from the hallway, at a time when everyone suddenly became quiet just a few seconds before this sound. We both looked at each other and realized we both heard the same noise. We both got up and looked to see if anyone was in the hallway, bathrooms and bedrooms and we came to the mutual conclusion that everyone was present in the living room. So we asked everyone if they heard the noise, and of course, everyone denied hearing it.



Personally, I think my sister and I are more sensitive to spirits and other paranormal things out there. My sister still has it, whatever it is. I do, every now and then, but not so much. When it does happen, a picture will pop into my mind, not by reality, of something trivial that actually does happen in a year or more.



And then I'll remember I had this image in my mind before. A couple times, it is something important.



One time, in particular, I envisioned a a bright nuclear mushroom cloud, suddenly, in my mind. It was in the same location and direction of a neighboring large city we live close to. I didn't know that, at the time, when I was just a kid. I do now. Still have the image in my head. The mushroom was on a outdoor theater movie screen. It was as if a movie was playing. Then the movie screen dissolved away and all that was left was the mushroom cloud. A flash! And that incinerated everything.





At the time, I described what I saw to my parents. Dad told me what I was describing (A nuclear bomb going off) and I said to myself, "Wow". Then I felt sad for a few moments but then the feeling went away.



Now, getting back to the ghost experiences:



Our parents always denied experiencing these ghostly happenings for themselves, I believe, so that we wouldn't cause a panic. Or be frightened. It was already all they could handle with keeping us fed, clothed, schooled and so on, many times. So... no blame on them.





My sister can share her own experiences, that I might not know about, if she's willing.





Fun fact: The house has parts of it built from other parts of churches, for whatever reason. I've never looked into it, really. It may mean nothing at all.





We still don't like going into certain rooms of the house. If we do, it's with each other or someone else. We accept the whole phenomena as acknowledged fact between us.





Before my mom passed about five years ago, I remember going to this one place in town that holds a public event for paranormal/holistic type things. It was my first time there. A small bunch of guys were sitting at this table. They were an investigative team. I told them a few things that happened at the house. Of course, this paranormal research team wanted to come and investigate the house but my parents lived there at the time and I didn't want them to be put on public display, if that were to happen. I told them, "No thanks" and my reason for saying that. They accepted that answer after a few minutes of debate. I don't take chances with bad possibilities that have anything to do with our society like that.





I'm sure I left out a butt load of details but I think I've said enough.





That's the end of this post. Nighty night. Sweet dreams and all that rot. LOL.