2. Are you sure?
In the previous chapter I played with Martin Luther’s famous saying – Here I stand I can do other – and changed it into: Re: He, I and crosses, I see a n, not a d, hero. This last word, hero, is incorrect. The o belongs in a different spot, creating a new version. Before disclosing the word, please read about another walk I took with my dog Becky, where I was picking up something off the road again.
Before continuing, let me remind my readers, when and where the habit of picking up things off the ground had started. It was in April 2003 in Los Angeles, California. I had been walking to find a bank and picked up a large piece of plastic on E. Dyer Ave, Santa Ana. I dumped it into a bin behind a small industrial block of units. Days later, at the Days Inn in Riverside, about an hour away by train, I happened to go for a stroll in the parking lot, because I was too frightened to walk the streets. I picked up two one-cent coins. Moments later I had made an observation, which made me think, the coins were placed there for me to pick up, as a test of some kind (Sand, Chapter 68).
Back in Adelaide, months later, I picked up two coins, a ten cent and a five cent piece, in Rundle Road, in Adelaide’s East End, after parking my vehicle. I again had had the feeling of being tested and that I picked up the coins, planted there, just for me to pick them up.
Coming back to the walk with my dog that evening. It was not long after uploading Chapter 1, when Becky and I were walking along Bridge Road. One particular evening I picked up the lid of a large paint tin, which made us walk straight on, instead of turning left at McDonald’s, which we normally do. I had no intention of keeping the lid. My outside-the-box-idea of starting a Museum, with bits and pieces I picked up off the road, was no longer at the top of my priorities list. I cooled to the idea after imagining people visiting my unique museum and shaking their heads on the way out, saying: “What a lot of rubbish!” (One day, perhaps all that rubbish will be featured online for free?)
What was it I picked up that evening.? My Fox-Terrier, Becky helped along a little. She pulls back regularly to sniff something out, which makes me stop and look around. I noticed a package on the footpath with the word: “Aussie Hero” written on it. It was the wrapping of a roll for a nearby fast food outlet. I picked it up and took it home. The expiry date on it was 10 Nov. 04.
That last word in “I see a n not a d – hero” is wrong. I didn’t want anybody to think I call myself a hero. Let me change the word ‘hero’ to ‘hoer’, which in German means to hear, to listen. Is this not one of the hardest tasks in today’s world, filled with noise, advertisements and information? My cry for over five years has been: Please hear what I have to say!
During another walk I spotted the remains of a box which had contained milk. I took little notice,
until I saw this a short distance away on the grass.
It was neatly cut out from the main box, possibly planted for someone like me to pick up (and publish it).
What’s so unusual? The numbers 1, 5, 3 etc.? No, what I found for unusual was that the same figures are listed twice, with only the decimal point shifted one digit.
Where is the point in that?
I would have included here another wrapper, a 50 g fruit bar, which I only picked up, because my dog pulled back at the time. It lay outside house No. 5. The printing on it read: Nut delight – Be Natural. I was the nut. My stories and jokes delighted and I always tried to be natural. After examining it a little more carefully at home, I noticed another clue – the use-by-date 26/5/05. On that day will the fourth anniversary of a policeman’s death, the unusual event, which partly triggered my whole supernatural thinking process.
The reason I can’t include a picture of the original wrapper here, was it’s disappeared off the clothesline, where I had hung it to dry, after giving it a wash. I must admit my family does live with a strange father. If any of them had read what I had uploaded onto my website on November 3rd 2004, I am not sure, if they would think any differently about me, hanging bits of candy bar wrappers onto the clothesline to dry.
November 3rd 04 was the day I once again progressed to another level of disclosure. The elections in the USA had just been held. The result had not yet been announced, but in a similar, surprise win to our own Prime Minister John Howard, President Bush won a decisive victory.
I had no clue as to what would happen after my coming out, as it were. Maybe my wife was correct, when she assumed only a handful of people read my material? With eight billion pages online competing for the reader’s attention, it would be a miracle, if my website, without a cent spent on advertising, would be widespread. Then again, this is what I had believed was happening.
But even if only a small number of people were following my story, why did not even one of them email me and question my sanity, challenge my thinking, telling me plainly – You are insane. Yet I received messages saying the opposite, but only in the usual, coded fashion.
An online surfer from India filled in the online enquiry form on my driving-school website. His name was Manoj from zip code 110014. Also common English names were used to give me a message - Trudy (true die) Wendy (When die), Jason (yes son) are some I understood clearly. Except, I was not sure, if true die was meant for the future or what they believed had happened in the distant past.
Was the spelling of our address in a business letter written wrongly on purpose: Goodall ROAD? DR are my initials, AO stands for alpha and omega – in Revelations HE is called the ‘Alpha and Omega’.
Nothing dramatically occurred after my Nov. 3rd disclosure. I did take notice, however, that the price of crude oil dropped seven percent overnight. It had reached record levels of around $ 55 per barrel in early November. The reason the big drop was most likely the outcome of the US elections. At the same time I wondered if it had a remote link to the word T.OIL, which I had put as my final caption on my index page. God even controls the price of commodities on the world markets, oil included.
Another noticeable, but welcome difference was the sharp decline in Spam-emails I was receiving. The number dropped from 50-100 daily to less than 20, almost immediately. Not even my German contacts, some of whom I thought would now be definitely branding me as a lunatic, reacted in a negative way. Had the doubters changed their minds about my mental stability? I did receive one email from a friend in Switzerland, which I regarded as strong support. Another wrote three words: You’re a gem, without explaining why.
People reading my claims had to make up their minds - either they agreed with me or were against me. There was no middle ground. Those not believing in my words had already decided against me. How far the opposition would go in persecuting me, remained to be seen. One thing I was sure of – God is my refuge and strength, according to Psalm 46.
Many people tried to show me that they believed in me. They had obviously entered my world of numbers, names and codes and conveyed their approval in the same fashion. I don’t think I fully realized (and still don’t to this day, Christmas 2004) how controversial my whole story was and the immensity of this historic event. Deep down I was not perturbed much at all. I had to remind myself every morning, and often during the day, who I had identified myself to be.
But the time for doubting and asking questions was over. What had happened couldn’t be made undone or ignored. I knew what it was and lived it all day everyday, despite a family who was totally against my way of thinking. I had not openly had the courage to tell my wife or children what I had disclosed on Nov. 3rd. If they were not prepared to listen to small miracles that happened to me every day, how could I make them swallow Big News? I assumed that none of them had read my latest chapters. If Ben and Mitch in Sydney had read them, I was unsure about. Nobody mentioned it.
In the middle of the night on Nov. 26th, 04 I overheard an item on the radio, while listening to the BBC, London. It was about CFL (long lasting) light globes. Some concepts didn’t make sense. When I heard a voice with an Australian accent, and the name John Goodall, I knew that there was some fun to be had. At the time our Electricity-Prices-Review was headline news. This gave me opportunity to not only question this story, but also draw attention to the high cost of our electricity. I emailed the BBC’s Business Program:
Subject: Electricity gone though the roof
I just happened to tune into your report on CLF light bulbs (or is it -globes?) early this morning (Adelaide time). They are supposed to last much longer and save energy. Do they make CFL light globes (or is it -bulbs?) for car brake lights?
The reason I am asking, my Suzuki, a lovely little car, called Wagon R plus, has one big minus. It has blown 3 break lights so far in the 6 years I had it. That's not the minus. The minus of my Plus is, I have to remove the whole rear bumper bar to change the light bulb (or is it globe?) - 13 screws and bolts altogether.
It happened once just prior to a driving test and I lost $ 65 dollars income because of it.
If they made CFL light globes (or is it light bulbs) for Suzuki brakelights, I would buy some. John Goodall, the man with the Australian Accent, who claims that Global (or is it ... forget it) warming has 'taken hold' would be happy.
In Adelaide we are always a step ahead of the rest. Our Gobal warning took hold long ago - today it will reach 37C today, already 30 C at 8.30 am).
Anyone for migrating? Those who consider it, please bring your CFL's with you, our electricity prices have gone through the roof. This brings me back to my Suzuki. Did you know in Japan, where they manufacture the car, you have to take off the roof of the house to change a light bulb? That's what I assume, after I found out about changing a brakelight in my Wagon R plus. I won't complain about my 13 screws and bolts any more.
Now you know the real reason they invented the CFL in the first place. It had nothing to do with saving electricity. The Japanese always come up with good solutions.
Dieter R. Fischer
PS Why are we worried about Global warming? The warmer - the less heating cost. Will CFL's create a new industry - Collecting and disposing of the old ones and recycling the Mercury, I assume? It won't be worth it, except in Japan.
Having put myself in the mood for teasing, I decided to pay a visit to Parliament House that day. It had been a long time since I had any contact with Mr. T, the independent Upper House Member, whom I had presented with three small gifts over a period. I had delivered to his parliamentary offices a “too-hard-basket”, a ‘no-better-business-for-prophet-mug’ plus a small, plastic ‘In-God-we-T-rust-bucket’. Each present carried with it a serious, underlying message.
Because it was a Friday, and I was going to pass through the city that day, it was the ideal opportunity to make up a tiny parcel. Mr. T had proposed a law, reducing the poker machine numbers in our clubs and hotels. I regarded a reduction of only 3000 as a band-aid measure. I conveyed this thought by packing up a small box of band-aids as the main part of my little gift box. Since I called the MP Mr. T, I had the idea of including a fake invention – a tiny sample of T.Oil.
In the accompanying letter I addressed two issues, the band-aid-measure of reducing poker machines only marginally, and I highlighted the need to properly fix our driver-licensing system, which was undergoing a major review by the Ex-Governor of South Australia, Sir Eric Neal. Here is the letter I wrote and delivered with the little box and tiny bottle to Parliament House, North Terrace, Adelaide on Friday 26th Nov. 2004:
Adelaide SA 5000
Re: Toil of Golf and band-aid measures
It has been a while since I sent to you my “In-God-We-Trust-Bucket”. Here is one more small token to make the parliamentary show-and-tel session interesting.
Lately I have noticed how legislation has been introduced that is really nothing but band-aid measure. The 3 strips of 5 band aids are to replenish the Parliamentary First Aid Cupboard, which must surely be near empty. I just hope they won’t pull more out after Sir Eric Neal tables his report into “driver licencing in South Australia”. Nothing short of a fair, user-friendly and independent driving test for every applicant, will suffice to fix our states dilemma, which is costing lives. Only people who learned gear changing ought to be allowed to drive manual.
3000 fewer poker-machines is a drop in the bucket (not the IGWT variety), but a step in the right direction. So is your suggestion to increase aid for rehabilitation from 1 to 3 percent. Had they listened to Advertiser journalist Chris Nichols in 1993, we would not be in the mess we find ourselves in. I am sure you would have read his book “Whistling in the dark”. The man uncovered that just before pokies was introduced by 1 vote (the power of one!) money was passed from the Hotel lobby to a Government Minister. When Chris would not betray his informant, he went to jail for 3 months. Corruption at it’s best.
I also include a small sample bottle of T-oil. I invented it this morning. T-oil works like this: A golfer applies a drop to the base of the Tee before pushing it into the ground. When hitting the ball, which often touches the T, (in my experience it also touches the grass) it will come out of the ground easier and is less likely to break. What made me come up with the idea was the huge number of broken Tees on golf courses. No only they need replacing, but litter the environment.
I am at present doing a study, how little oil is required in relation to the length of the Tee. If I can reduce oil consumption to, say, half a drop, it will be less of a drain on oil reserves. If you are interested or know of an investor, please let us know. A major investor will receive naming rights. How about: MLC T’s T-oil? Sounds OK. Please keep the formula secret or I may not make my million with this invention. I have lots of ideas and inventions, but no one listens.
The dramatic events surrounding the journalist-whistleblower Chris Nicholls is a classic example of punishing someone for doing what is right, and letting those who did wrong, off the hook. This is why I called it - corruption at its best.
Around the same time I had overheard a politician comment on radio regarding the poker machine legislation. Because I had read Chris Nicholls’ book and the injustice that was done, I thought this was a good time to email the Member of Parliament, who sits next to Mr. T in the Chamber, to remind him that poker machines in South Australia were introduced through pressure tactics.
Subject: Anyone against Poker?
I just heard you on ABC Radio commenting on the Poker Machine Bill. May I remind you of the story of a brave journalist from the Advertiser Newspaper. He uncovered the deal that was made and the huge amounts of money that changed hands to pass the poker machine bill by ONE vote!
If you can recall, the man who should have been thanked for an exceptional investigation and speaking out, went to jail over it. (Chris Nichols' book "Whistling in the dark" tells it all - how he promised to not disclose his informant, but rather paid the bitter price).
Had we listened to Chris in 1993, instead of locking him up, poker machine gambling in this state would not be such a problem to our economy and socially. And please, no one suggest, to just throw more money to rehabilitate the gamblers or simply send them outside to smoke!
I don't agree with your comment, that it can’t be stopped totally. Where is the pastor in you gone? I heard you preach it. "Phil, 4,13 - can do - all things ? (Check Mr. X's 'too hard basket!') How many tourists really want Gambling Machines? Can't somebody work out a reasonable number and then place that amount strategically in Clubs and certain establishments. I agree with you, what difference will 3000 fewer make. And don't allow them everywhere to prevent locals from losing the money that should feed the children. A freeze for 10 years would give little chance of real, long term reduction. I trust that you and your colleagues make a wise decision in the Upper House on this.
PS B. Wise - was not the name of the Minister at the time. It was B. Wiese.
During his painstaking investigation somebody handed Chris documents to show that money had been paid from the Hotel industry to a senior politician. To turn the affair into a real soap opera, the agent for the hotel lobby was a bed partner to the senior politician allegedly taking the bribe. Because the documents were obtained in an illegal manner, Chris was taken to court for refusing to name the person, who had used a false identity to obtain the vital proof. Chris’s reward for exposing corruption was a conviction for contempt of court and three months in Yatala Labour prison. In his book mentioned, Chris describes the ordeal he and his family went through in their fight for justice.
Knowing email is a powerful tool I sent copies of above reminder of the shameful deed to all Members of Parliament in the Upper House. I received only a single response from a very unlikely source, a Democrat MP who had experienced the affair first hand:
The Democrats were and are vehemently against poker machines. M.F. and I were with the deciding voter at 2.30am on the last day of the debate, supporting him in his resolution to oppose their introduction, then M. F. was heavied by his colleagues in the ALP to change his mind thus we have the scourge in our midst!
I wondered what was meant by ‘heavied’. How many bad laws have gone through Parliament because somebody got heavied and the politician’s eyelids were getting heavy? I question the sanity of passing vital legislation at that time of the morning. A decision to give birth to a multi-billion dollar industry should not have been made under any kind of pressure.
My letter to Mr. T, as jovial as it may have sounded, was to remind our politicians of the wrong that was done, but to this day has not yet been brought to justice. Instead of punishing corrupt behaviour, all was neatly wrapped into a parcel to make it look attractive. Most people looking at it, all presented neatly by the media, would not have blinked an eyelid, when in fact it was corruption at its worst, or best, whichever you choose.
After dropping the tiny parcel of Band-aids and T-Oil to Parliament House, I drove to the Southern suburbs to attend a funeral at Centennial Park of a prominent ex-politician, who had passed away at age 59. Her death was not caused by a road crash; and anyhow, I had moved on from taking note of car crashes and attending the victim’s funerals. The former Senator in Canberra, whose state funeral I was attending, had died of a neurological illness.
What on earth was I doing, attending a stranger’s funeral? The logical part of my brain questioned my strange action. But at the same time, I reminded myself that immediately on hearing the news earlier in the week, I knew I would be at this funeral. When I found out that venue was the same chapel, where I had attended Ben Mitchell’s funeral two years earlier, it all made sense. So did the date – it was Friday November 26th, 04 - exactly 2 1/2 years after the policeman, Bob Sobczak, died on his motorcycle while on duty. His accidental death, and my subsequent believe that he had died in my place, was one of my first experiences, where my mind crossed into the area of paranormal thinking.
I arrived, right on time, at exactly the same time as the Governor, ex-Olympian runner Marjorie Nelson Jackson. Her stately looking limousine, with only a crown as registration plate, had passed me moments earlier. There were fewer people present than at previous funerals I attended, possibly because it was a state funeral. For this reason I decided to not try to find a seat inside the chapel, but sat on a seat in the large foyer area.
A young lady sat next to me. She made notes onto a pad, so I assumed she was a journalist. I asked her who she was writing for. She said: “For Five AA”. This was the same radio station, I had often phoned on their overnight talkback and one I have mentioned a number of times in my writing. The journalist didn’t have an order-of-service sheet. As the music played she turned to me and asked: “What song are they playing?”
Order of service – State Funeral Janine Haines.
I placed the order of service leaflet between us and opened it to the second page. The song that was playing was called: “The Allisons “Are you sure?” I pointed it out to the young reporter, surprised that she needed my assistance.
Then the thought process hit home – It had barely been three weeks since I made some rather remarkable statements. Readers, who had followed my story from the beginning, would have been wondering many times, if indeed I was genuine or just another blogger, stringing everybody along to get attention, providing cheap entertainment.
Many knew I was different, on a mission with a noble cause. This young reporter was there to check me out – to see, if I was genuine. She left soon after, well before the end. I trust she was satisfied with the answer to the question “Are you sure?” - My very presence at a time and place, where I had no reason to be, gave the answer – I was sure.
I had the assurance from the spirit inside me: Sure, you are it.