URBAN SURVIVAL – THIS IS NOT A DRILL
I started this post in a lull of the chaos a few days after Hurricane Helene. It is now two-weeks later.
After 43-years in Florida, I have been through many hurricanes. Generally, I have everything that I need, so when a storm approaches, I just top off whatever I believe is inadequate back at home, and then I go from there. This time it was plastic sheeting.
After Hurricane Debbie, I discovered that the house that I began renting last year had a substantial leak from the garage side door and the kitchen back door. The kitchen door even leaked in a torrential down pour a week after Debbie.
An Insurance Inspector did come by and then a roofer, because Hurricane Debbie also pissed on my dining room table from a roof leak. The roofer confirmed that it was time for a new roof. I did send the hurricane pictures and a report to the property manager, who forwarded them to the property owner, and then a week later, the pictures from the second leak. I did my due diligence.
After the second kitchen door leak, the property manager wanted me to call the maintenance company. Calling the maintenance company is not in any part of my job description, especially with the rent that I am paying. I was quite sure that the simple maintenance company did not do construction work, and none of that was my concern. That was someone else’s job, like the property manager’s, and my plate was full at the time.
I am not sure where many Americans get off shifting their professional responsibilities to other people, but I have seen it too many times. The victims of tragedies and misfortune often pay good money to have their backs covered, but there is always that legal caveat and that small print.
The real estate market in Florida has been a scandal since the 1920s. One property manager forced a good friend of mine to share the costs of a new hot water heater, and I have a lawsuit pending against my last property manager. It would have begun today, but on Monday all court cases were put on hold to prepare for Hurricane Milton.
My new property manager has been very accommodating, and that was refreshing; so, it was my intention to stay in that house until I retire in a few years.
Lately, I had become spiritually appalled at the way many people have been acting. In an area where over three-million people live and work, I was becoming a hermit. The kind of people that I am pointing to seem to have one common trait. You can see it in that driver who speeds by you and then cuts you off even though for the last mile big, flashing signs are warning drivers that the lane ahead is closed. These people are the creators of bottlenecks in life.
My measuring stick is not subjective. I work with some very serious professionals, and I have tried to adopt their standards of patience. Leaders have to have patience.
Unfortunately, I am a cynic through and through. I am use to the system not working on any level. This is The New America, and I have its number down pat. America’s political and corporate leaders are welchers and deadbeats.
I have had a former Air Force Wing Commander come and shake my hand after he resigned his new position, because as a man of integrity, he would not kiss corporate ass. I told him on his first day exactly how the company worked, and then he found out for himself.
He was once my Site Manager destined for greater corporate glory. After climbing the corporate ladder, we actually squared off at a union contract negotiation.
Our test pilots were promised one thing and that promise did not show up in the contract. I spent two-days arguing with him, and I know it was the corporation that broke the promise and forced him to sell it.
A year later, he told them to shove it up their asses, and he came by to shake my hand on his way out the door. My current Site Manager has also become disillusioned, and I do not like to see that in the people who are the backbone of America.
We need these people to stay strong. I’m just an old jaded SOB, and I am lucky enough to work with a team who walk the talk at every level.
My story of dealing with Hurricane Helene is every bit a part of Urban Survival; so, I called George Ure over at UrbanSurvival.com, who I have known for many years.
Nostradamus and the Hurricane
I have been involved in the search and rescue business when I was in the Navy.
It is an ironic twist of fate in life to become a homeless refugee in your own country.
THE COMPUTER SAYS SO
The System is a fraud, because it sets people spinning into a vicious AI loop. There needs to be a human being somewhere in the process.
That is where luck intervened several times in this two-week saga of back-to-back Hurricanes Helene and Milton. Two-weeks ago at 2:00 AM, sitting in my brand-new recliner with water nearly up to my knees, I did get a human being at my insurance company. Thus my property insurance claims were set in motion.
Hurricane Helene caught me with my pants down, but only because life had gotten in my way. For me, 2024 has turned out to be a very difficult year of personal tests.
G. A. STEWART
THE DEVIL CAME DOWN
G. A. STEWART
THE MONEY CHANGERS AND THE OTHER SIDE OF MIDNIGHT
Life Gets In The Way is the title of an unfinished song that I began to write some years ago. We all know that there are so many hours in a day, and we all have big dreams. That is the foundation of the lyrics, and they are an accurate assessment of love and setting out in life to fulfill your dreams.
Given my dream in my post, The Devil Came Down, it seems that Satan and I are still punching it out. The first three rounds seem to be mine; I am still standing. First, he had to take out an entire city, and then he came back again to take out the state.
Katrina-Like Disaster Unfolds For Biden-Harris As New Round Of Tropical Trouble Takes Aim At Florida
Back in November of 2023, I had to rebuild my life once again. What I built in this home was my creative space for living life.
I took those pictures three-weeks before the hurricane. I was ready to do some green-screen productions of my work with prophecy, I was inviting musicians to come over and jam, and I wanted to get back into running along Tampa Bay.
The irony of losing everything in a flood is writing a book about Doom and providing the year, 2024. Sometimes I wonder about quantum physics and creating our own reality. That kind of speculation I will save for another day.
As he usually does, my High School buddy called when another hurricane rolled in; he reminded me that I have gotten very good at rebuilding my life on more than a few occasions. Only a few days later, his family in Asheville, North Carolina was getting slammed by the remnants of the same storm that sunk my boat.
We have been on the phone for the last few days sharing our observations.
First of all, I am very good about hurricanes. Previously, I have rented U-Haul trucks and evacuated with those possessions on my priority list. You can only do that a few times in life before you begin weighing the effort and the expended energy against the odds and the history. Several years ago, I consciously made the decision that I would measure evacuating on the merits of every storm.
When you live on a peninsula 25-miles long, 12 miles wide, and are surrounded on three sides by water, there are not too many places to go. In my experience, most hurricane damage is relegated to surviving the winds and then watching people trek through waist deep water. I was prepared to do that.
Waist deep water is nothing to balk at, I was tubing the Salt River in Arizona when the current from knee deep water almost knocked me off my feet and sent me down the river.
I always stay on top of hurricanes; it is part of my job to protect the $250-million facility that I work in, and hurricane preparations are always tough. We cover all the equipment with huge tarps that I built with my technicians over a decade ago. They are heavy and it is a good workout.
We worked hard Wednesday at my facility preparing for the storm, and by late Wednesday afternoon, all I wanted to do was stop at Home Depot and get more plastic rolls for the house that I have been renting.
When Hurricane Helene rolled into town the next day, I began my usual half-hour sweeps going over the storm tracks, predictions, and the real images. I regularly would go out on to my front porch to gauge the rain and winds. By choosing to live three blocks from the bay, I knew I was operating on Assumption of the Risk, because I do love this area. For over two-decades, I ran 5-miles a day along the seawall holding back Tampa Bay.
The screenshot of the storm at the head of this article was taken around 6:30 PM, I went out to my porch to check the winds and rain, and they were minimal, and I thought, “We had dodged another storm.”
Roughly, 20-minutes later, while working on this website, I heard a gurgling sound outside of my office window, so I went out to the front porch to see what it was… and there was Tampa Bay flowing through the streets and my front yard close to the front porch.
I could see that my neighbors’ cars across the street were already under water; as intimidating as it was to stare out at the bay flowing through the streets as far as the eye could see, I was not evacuating. I already knew my plan; I was going to save my 1,500 books, my musical instruments, and the memorabilia; insurance would cover the rest. And that is what I did until about 1:00 AM, when I finally ran out of space to put things.
The first thing that I did was go to the garage to see if water had come in yet. I was going to go out the back garage door to see if the water had reached my truck in the driveway and the backyard, but when I went to turn on the garage light, I accidentally hit the automatic door opener. As the door opened, in came Tampa Bay. I quickly closed it and realized that the water had reached the alley and my driveway.
I always have plenty of storage containers; however, most of mine were filled with my electronics equipment, radios, and survival gear out in the garage. I had not gotten to them since the last move. Only after I had taken those pictures of my office and music studio a few weeks before the storm did I feel that I had finally and literally gotten my house back in order since my 2016 divorce. I was going to turn my garage into a shop, setting up my electronics work bench again, and then get into 3D printing.
And so go the best laid plans if mice and men…
Seeing the water come into the garage, the first thing that I did was grab the empty storage containers. A quick check outside the kitchen door; water had begun flowing into the backyard.
I put on my work boots, grabbed my luggage, and began filling them with clothes. I took two of my extra dinning room chairs and staged my luggage by the kitchen door, and then tried to save what I could.
THE TIDE COMES IN
The Insurance Inspector finally measured three-and-a-half-feet outside, eighteen-inches inside the garage, and a foot in the house.
Once the water came up to my front porch, I could see that the bay had flowed inland through dozens of blocks, because the street lights stayed on for another three-hours.
I was surprised at how long the electricity stayed on. Like the sinking Titanic, the lights finally went out around 11:00 PM, and so I worked by flashlight as the water kept rising in my home.
It operates basically like compartmental flooding. My front door and house garage door open outward, so the water pressure actually sealed them tighter. However, my kitchen door opened inward, and that is where the water came in first.
In the garage, when the water finally came up to the door jam, the filled plastic storage bins began to float and bob like corks until they would flip over and then fill with water.
Once the water came up to the door jam, I sealed the garage door. The kitchen door was a losing battle; the water was pushing the door in and began coming inwards from the sides like two small waterfalls.
I kept checking the windows to see how high the water was going to get using the oak tree in my front yard. It kept coming, and I kept moving my books from the lower shelves. I wondered how long the house could hold back three-and-a-half feet of water.
THE RISING WATER LEVEL INSIDE AND OUTSIDE MY FRONT PORCH WINDOW
My neighbor across the street was very smart. When he bought his old Florida home, he bulldozed it three-years later and built a new home to code, thirteen-feet up from the ground. He spent $600k doing that and now pays property tax on unrealized Capital Gains of an assessed $1.2 million home. It was worth it. His family and belongings, with the exception of his garage, remained high and dry.
He would come out onto his back porch checking the water level, and we would signal each other with flashlights. He wound up wading through waist deep water to rescue a woman, her two daughters, and their dog. He carried the dog on his shoulders back to his home.
At ground level, I saved what I could, but I eventually ran out of elevated platforms. Exhausted, I finally sat down in my new living room furniture with the water nearly up to my knees.
The last news report that I heard on the television was that the tide would keep rising until 3:00 AM, and then the water might not recede for days depending on the location. That was a very daunting and depressing thought.
With the adrenaline still pumping and waiting for that shift in the tide, I grabbed a dining room chair and went back to my recliner using the chair to keep my feet out of the water. Not wanting to fall asleep, I began making plans; so, I called my insurance company. Amazingly, after I was on hold for about 25 minutes, someone did answer around 3:00 AM, and so I got the recovery ball rolling.
On that positive note, once that was done, I felt better and started to relax. Fatigue was catching up to me; I remember looking at my empty bookshelves with my flashlight measuring where the water level was at. My last check outside had the water level at about three-feet. Around that time, I must have dozed off for about an hour; when I woke up, I shined my flashlight on the pegs in my book shelves. The water level had not risen. I looked out the window. The bay looked to be the same height as it was on my last last check. Keeping my feet out of the nasty water, I decided to crawl over to my couch and just pass out. I figured that if the bay got any higher, the water would wake me up.
At 6:00 AM, it started to get light out and I woke up. I shined my flashlight into my living room and besides the puddles, there was no water. Amazingly, it had drained out of the house in just about 3-hours; and I said, “Thank you Jesus.” I got up and assessed the damage. It was a near total loss. I did save my books and musical instruments, but everything else was destroyed. That is why I had insurance on everything; so, we will see how much I can recover, and the kinds of games we will play.
My F-150 was totaled and the funds have already been transferred to my bank.
I would especially like to thank reader Todd for that generous donation the day after the hurricane. It will certainly help with my relocation. And, of course, I would certainly like to thank George Ure for getting out the word.
Jobs, Oil Terminal Roulette, ShopTalk for Prime Days
Meanwhile, I hope to hear from G.A.Stewart of the popular Nostradamus-focused The Age of Desolation web site this weekend. Stu’s gotten slammed and is moving…
Adventures of Stu – Post Milton
There are a great many people who read George’s website who are doers in life, and that is why I like to comment there. I know most of us are part of the old set, but none of us seem sedentary or ready for the old folk’s home. I do thank God that I was strong enough to move an entire household in a week. If I have to lift one more storage bin of books, I might get sick. After 26-years, I have lost count of the moves.
With my truck destroyed and my quick attempt to try and rent a vehicle, it still took me 8 days to get one.
The technology companies have managed to centralize everything and like any true centralized Communist structure, it does not communicate to its branches. I heard dozens of people complaining about the rental reservations that they made online, only to show up at their local rental lot to find them closed or that there were no cars available. I learned this the hard way after $80.00 worth of cab rides.
The Phone App System does not work, but my Android did get me through. I am tethered to it now without Internet service in my new residence. On the first day after the storm, my cell phone worked, but I could not connect to the Internet until I was outside of the radius of the damage in my neighborhood. Without power and down to 11% on my battery, I dried off my bicycle and headed for anything that was open. That would turn out to be a MacDonald’s. Cars were backed up in the drive-through and the store had a long line inside of it.
I had my laptop and phone with me, and I set up at an empty table and then ordered breakfast. I got online and began working the rental vehicle and looking for a new rental house. Unfortunately, the police told the MacDonald’s Manager that the city had not certified the building safe for occupation, so they closed the store, but kept the drive-through open.
There is another example of more of that state Communism again. I managed to stay until the last person left and I got my phone charge back over 90%.
I was lucky enough to get a U-Haul rental after the U-Haul App failed to recognize my device. Here is where God intervened.
At the Self-Serve U-Haul, a gentlemen passed through who knew the owner of the lot. He gave me his phone number, and Pastor Steve bypassed the system and hooked me up with one of his trucks. It was my lifeline for the next five days.
All locally environmentally controlled storage places disappeared on the first day along with the rental cars. I had to go 20-miles north to store my 1,500 books, musical equipment, and clothes. All of my furniture was destroyed, my tool boxes, and many of my tools were ruined. There is still standing water in some of the trays.
My insurance company had a clunky system of uploading pictures. That meant being creative, and so one night in the molding swamp that I had been living in that use to be my home, I created a 60-page PDF of all the general damages. The Insurance Claims people finally recognized that I have suffered almost a total loss, so they have escalated my case to Major Property Claims. I was supposed to hear from them over the weekend, but then came Hurricane Milton.
The famous groundbreaking television comedian Milton Berle was also known as Uncle Miltie. There was nothing funny or over played about this hurricane.
UNCLE MILTIE ZERO HOUR
First I want to address all the fake-Christians on the Internet. Blogger and conservative short-wave radio host Hal Turner just recently provided the best example.
1:00 PM EDT – Tropical-Storm-Force Winds “Just Offshore” of Florida Gulf Coastline
Folks in low-lying areas have been repeatedly warned to EVACUATE. Most have; some few have not. Those who will not leave are being offered help in getting out, but most of them decline those offers, thinking they will simply ride-out the storm at home…
When most of these Beavis and Butthead-type folks get killed by this storm – and MANY will — we should look at it as a positive; they won’t be contributing to the Gene pool anymore…
Spoken like a true eugenicist. There are no “positives” in other people’s suffering.
I have made my own way in this world, nothing was given to me, and I have given a lot. Twice in my life, people with more than a few problems, whom I have tried to help, almost brought me down to ruin. I have empathy for those people who had no place to go for Hurricane Helene and Hurricane Milton, because they already have nothing left. I came close to that twice, and right now I am basically there a third time after Hurricane Helene.
However, I am smarter than the average bear, and I am hoping that my insurance has me covered. Other people were not so fortunate, because they could not afford the insurance.
I suppose Hal Turner’s comments apply to the two 93-year and 94-year old women in my friend’s apartment building.
I once subscribed to Hal Turner’s website for several years after his breaking story regarding Russia’s threats of going nuclear over the 2014 NATO led Ukrainian coup d’état. That story turned out to be real, and why I take Vladimir Putin’s threats very seriously. After a few years, I got very tired of Hal Turner’s whining. He strikes me as a weak man, and I am quite sure that he does not have the tough it takes to deal with back-to-back hurricanes.
After Hurricane Helene, I immediately began working a list of houses to rent that I created every morning at the local Starbucks where I could recharge my phone and my laptop and connect to the Internet with my phone.
As much as I love the city that I have lived in for over two-decades, I realized that I had to get off the peninsula. The only environmental storage unit that was available turned out to work to my advantage. Still using the U-Haul truck, I would tie runs to the storage unit with looking at rental houses.
I found a house a half-a-mile from the house that I bought for my second wife ten-years ago. I had picked that area because it is on a ridge at 60-feet and nearly off the peninsula. It was a long drive to work, but I had to act fast. Realtors were about to supply the local government with lists of available housing in various parts of the county. I needed to beat the rush north out of the city.
By Friday, I had completed all the paperwork and I awaited approval to move in. However, the rental market is cut-throat in this area; I was optimistic, but some under the table deal could be played by someone willing to pay a higher rent. That was not a possibility, but a reality; it happened to me before I moved into the house that was flooded.
On Thursday after Hurricane Helene, it looked like I would not get a rental car before the following week, and I had to return to work. On my last storage run, I found an open Enterprise Rental and stopped in to check on the reservation my insurance company had setup. I just got tired of calling and getting someone far away from Florida and the situation. The place was crowded and people were losing it. I tried to tell an irate woman that getting mad at the agents would not help.
I knew the drill. Five days before, Enterprise Rental had called me on Monday after Hurricane Helene hit and said that they could put me in a truck. I thought I had it made. An hour later, a frantic rental agent called me to say that he had nothing left, the National Guard and Duke Energy had rented his entire inventory. Central was out of touch with the local agents.
So, on Thursday, my coworker and good friend swung by my house after work and drove me to his place an hour north to lend me the car his Dad had just given him for his teenage daughter.
Don’t you know, the next day, back at work, Enterprise Rental called me to say that they finally had a rental for me. I told the agent that I could not get there until after work. I had to give him the exact time so he could move me further down their list, which after five-days, I am sure was much larger than the 300 from Monday.
As soon as I got home, I called a cab to go down and get the car, but the cab was late, and so I took my friend’s car, and picked up the rental. I was lucky enough to get into a Dodge Ram four-wheel drive, gladly picking up what my insurance company would not cover. Unfortunately, it is due back today, because my insurance has already settled on my truck.
Enterprise Rentals contacted me yesterday as Hurricane Milton approached and told me that they would be closed. Tomorrow, I want to extend the rental.
Only when I took a cab ride back to get my friend’s car did I learn from the cab driver of what was then Tropical Storm Milton. For a week, I had been living in a bubble. My waking hours were dedicated to getting out of the ruined house as the mold grew worse every day. I was going to try and save my china cabinets, but when I began to move them, I could see that they were covered in a white mold.
After I learned of another potential hurricane, by Sunday night, I sent an email to the property manager and told her I want to close the house rental by noon Monday so I could get the last of what I wanted out of my ruined home. They were predicting a 12-foot tidal surge with this storm, and I was working several options with that house rental at the top of the list.
On Monday morning, I had three loads of laundry done at the busy laundromat when the property manager emailed me the approval and link to the lease. I e-signed the paperwork right there, electronically sent her the money, and by that afternoon I had the combination to the lock box of my new rental house.
There is some irony in it being only four-tenths of a mile away from my old house.
On Tuesday, my buddy and his new wife picked up ten more storage bins for me, because locally, all the stores were sold out, and they came down with a trailer. With three vehicles and the trailer, we got everything that I wanted out of the house and my rental storage unit. They even bought me lunch.
My friend’s wife is a Nurse Practitioner, when she saw the mold growing up from the carpet to the baseboards, she told me in no uncertain terms not to spend another night in that house.
Yesterday, I filled up those ten bins with what I would need over the next couple hurricane days, and driving through a 40-knot blowing rain, I got to my new house last night and rode out the storm.
When Hurricane Milton hit Siesta Key, I finally went to bed exhausted and just passed out. I know Siesta Key very well; my friend once lived there, and I have family on Anna Maria and in Sarasota. Thankfully, Hurricane Helene had chased everyone away for Hurricane Milton.
I did have power when I woke up this morning, so I took my first hot shower in over a week, but just as things were looking up and I was about to make a pot of coffee, the power went out. I surrendered to the bad luck and went back to bed.
A few hours later, George Ure called to check on me, and shortly after that the power came back.
This is what my old neighborhood looked like after Hurricane Helene.
THE HURRICANE HELENE AFTERMATH
The thing that I have discovered here a few weeks from turning 68 is that physical endurance is essential. I thank God that I have been able to do 12-hour days lifting 100 lb. bins into a U-Haul trailer. Before this disaster, I was actually getting disgusted with myself. In fact, I saw my old Marine buddy for the first time in two years in the local Starbucks last week. He lost a lung from a bullet in a Vietnam rice paddy; so, at 76, he has been laying low since COVID 19.
Never one to hold back, he said, “Stu, you’re getting fat.”
I agreed; I need to shed 15 lbs. Maybe this is the lesson to be learned from Hurricane Helene and Hurricane Milton and whatever is coming next.
Weather Wars are at work here; I wrote seventeen-years ago that they would be the first shot. Florida is a target rich environment. It is one of the states in the top military five.
The Age of Desolation, G. A. Stewart, 2007, Page 218
Nostradamus specifically states that the cause of World War III will be “fire from the Western side to the East”. It is a reference to weather weapons that besides creating earthquakes, they can change the direction of the jet stream.
THE THIRD AGE OF MARS, WORLD WAR III
CELESTIAL FIRE FROM THE WEST
1611
1627
Nostradamus Sixain XXVII
Celeƒte feu du coƒté d’Occident,
Et du Midy courir iuƒques au Leuant,
Vers demy morts ƒans point trouuer racine
Troiƒieme aage à Mars le belliqueux,
Des Eƒcarboucles on verra briller feux,
Aage Eƒcarboucle, & à la fin famine.
Nostradamus Sixain XXVII
Celestial fire from the side of the West,
From the South, running to the Levant [East],
Worms half dead without finding a root.
Third Age of Mars the warlike [World War III],
From carbuncles [Lasers] one will see brilliant fire,
The age of the carbuncle [Laser] and in the end famine.
Nostradamus and the Age of Desolation, G. A. Stewart, 2013, Page 63
“Fires shining from the Carbuncles” is a reference to laser weaponry. Interestingly enough, a carbuncle is anyone of the scarlet and crimson varieties of garnet where the stone is cut with a convex face. There is an ancient legend that Noah used such stones to illuminate the ark.
The lines, The Third Age of Mars and fires shining from carbuncles, are clearly prophecies of World War III and lasers. I remember forty-years ago looking up the definition of carbuncle in my 1956 American Educator Encyclopedia. I noted that it mentioned that the ancients had prized carbuncles for their ability to “shine in the dark”.
The Age of Desolation, G. A. Stewart, 2007, Page 284
It is more likely, however, that before nuclear weapons will be used by the United States, Russia, or China, that we will see the use of Directed Energy or Scalar Weapons to initiate natural disasters on target cities of both sides. The first city of note in the United States will be Los Angeles.
The Age of Desolation, G. A. Stewart, 2007, Page 295
The “wind from Aquilon” is the North Wind or the use of Directed Energy weather weapons. However, it seems that the use of weather weapons will backfire and bog down the Western forces in their attempt to escape.
I have written extensively about Weather Weapons for the last seventeen-years, because I read Tom Bearden’s work back in the 1980s. I understand the physics. Besides boiling the atmosphere with ionosphereic heaters and Directed Energy weapons, the secret is that gravity control is in the thermodynamics.
The United States is going to get sliced up into pieces, and it began in earnest in Lahaina, Hawaii on August 8th, 2023.
There are plenty of readers out there who do not believe this, including many of the Colonels who I have worked with over the last 26-years. Frankly, people’s ignorance is not my problem. I work hard here to provide information about the Real World. That is why much of my research comes with citations.
As Empire Of Lies Crumbles, Hillary Clinton Warns: “We’ll Lose Total Control” If Social Media Stops Censoring Content
One of the greatest career criminals in history, Hillary Clinton, is trying to block people from talking about her and her husband, Bill Clinton’s crimes. It will not go well for them or the social engineers.
In Resurfaced Clip, Kamala Harris Fantasizes About Weaponizing DOJ Against ‘Misinformation’
“We will hold Social Media Platforms accountable for the hate infiltrating their platforms – because they have a responsibility to help fight against this threat to our Democracy.
Yes, Kamala Harris, we are going to hold all of you accountable.
Americans will fight back, and those are all part of Nostradamus and Edgar Cayce’s prophecies. A fragment of America will survive, and the defeat of The Global Elite will begin here.
The Second American Civil War was always the biggest chapter in all of my books. I started using the phrase The Second American Civil War in 2007, look how many bloggers use it today.
War has come, but only a few people have recognized it.
After I finish this post, tomorrow I will go back to itemizing my losses for my insurance company, and then get back to work at both of my jobs protecting this country and warning people about what is coming. On the night of Hurricane Helene, I was working on a YouTube series using AI to create a visual representation of my work with prophecy and what I have published in my books and on this website. I have found it therapeutic, and maybe it will help sell Nostradamus and prophecy to the doubters and critics.
To be honest, I have been through a great deal in this life, and today, it is terribly hard for the Princes in the Alternative Media to impress me. I use information like I would use a wrench; it’s a tool. I can smell an agenda and clickbait a mile away.
Living so close to where I work, I was ready to go out with the first wave of Russian 800-kiloton warheads that will be dropping in just six-miles away from where I use to live. Ten-years ago, I tried to move my ex-wife away from that possibility, and strangely enough I find myself back in the same place. The implications and the spiritual meaning I will have to ponder another time. There is a lot of hard work ahead.
I do not sell survival here; I sell prophecy, but being prepared allowed me to quickly escape a disaster. I had the tie down straps to secure the last of my surviving furniture to my friend’s trailer. I had the emergency lighting to use when the power failed as I tried to save my belongings in the flood.
You cannot be a real prepper living in a flood zone or a few miles from a major military target. My choice was to live and enjoy life. Instead of target practice, I was practicing with my guitar or my drums. Last year was the first time that I had shot some of my weapons in a decade; some were still brand new. I can still put a bullet through the black. I almost forgot about my guns during the flood. An inch of water had already reached the closet when I remembered them, and thankfully, they were in their cases.
The Age of Desolation is here, but death and destruction is not what it is all about, it is about how each of us meets this age. The art is in how we all live with this Sword of Damocles hanging over our heads.
In the end, I chose to save my books and my musical instruments. I got out with enough to write this post and keep on going, and that’s what it’s all about. I have told a friend prone to depression that in life you must keep swimming, no pun intended. It’s either that or drown. We are offered no other choices.
NOSTRADAMUS AND THE THIRD AGE OF MARS 2024
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NOSTRADAMUS COMPENDIUM 2024
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G. A. STEWART’S NOSTRADAMUS COMPENDIUM
THE PASSWORD IS ON THE LAST PAGE OF
NOSTRADAMUS AND THE THIRD AGE OF MARS 2024
