Nicolas Vanzetti of Anonymous Threatens to Take Down my Website

HAHA! sorry, its about the donald marshall thing. i just...i think ridiculous, honestly. and ppl think i believe in conspiracy theories first of all i hate that word ok? i believe in the truth and its hard for most ppl to even understand it...i posted this on my page and of course, tada like buttah! (idk)

bling bling! http://theconspiracyzone.podcastpeople.com/posts/29801

who  is this stevie guy btw? he seems like, nuts attention seeker i dont know? but he is spreading disinfo thats for sure....he thinks he is Christ...and now i guess him and donald marshall are no longer on speaking terms? its like, maybe he is DID? what do you think? thursday? (the only one who comments here haha! its cool)

wow  ha!! look : http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=cq2GSdFbAlU

tsk...anyways, i need to upload the pics from this wknd...

also  this, (i want to see these pages now that nickolas vanzetti (?) made of him

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qG9xvgoPW5k&feature=watch_response

reading  this, from 'christs' blog

http://www.missteribabylonestar.com/ilmasonic.html  (interesting?)

Without question the weirdest experience in my entire life was in December of 2006. About a month or two prior I was beginning to see my identity covertly hidden in many particular popular songs as well as witnessing signs and events that just made no rational sense to me unless there was some kind of divine magical force weaving it all together where I was the main character in the story of the world, basically. Hearing messages on televison which mimicked word for word what I had just said seconds earlier, hearing songs on the radio that answered questions to what I was thinking, encountering live people that acknowledged me as if I were God. My marriage had been crumbling for years. Being the victim of spousal abuse where my wife would enter altered personality states and begin going psycho on me took it’s toll over the years. I wanted out. One day on December 15, 2006, as the weirdness factor was at an all-time high, I listened to this song “Last train to Clarksville” by the Monkees. I read into it, probably too much, by concluding that the song was directing me to take the last El train to Clark Street in Chicago where my former girlfriend used to live. I thought I would be meeting up with her. Yes, I was delusional, I admit it. I was rushing because it had to be “by 4:30”.

I’m cruising down the highway to the train station to continue my trip towards Clark street. I’m on the train now and on the “last train” waiting for Clark Street. I suddenly realize we just past Clark so I pull the cord on the rail for the conductor to stop the train. Well he doesn’t so I have to get off and hop on the reverse one back to Clark. Once off on Clark I go the this restaurant a block away from the stop where my former girlfriend used to work at as a waitress. I figure this is where she will be. I walk into the place and it’s just closing, but no one says anything to me, they just look like they are expecting me. So I begin to walk around looking for her, she’s not there. I walk through the kitchen and both bathrooms, check every possible room, nothing. I see a door that leads up to the attic and roof, I open it and it’s completely pitch black. I feel my way around and find a filled plastic bag that seems to contain some sort of paper. I’m in the attic lurking around, I go further up to the roof and am now outside on top of the building. I can see now that the contents of the bag is hundreds of little origami birds tied on string. Well I make my way down and back into the restaurant, find a booth and sit there with my bag of birds. I take each one out and notice all the detail. An Indian man comes up to me, seems to be the manager, and politely asks me if I made the birds. I tell him no, but he insists to tell me that I made them - very strange.

Anyway, I realize she is not there and leave the restaurant. I go back to the El platform and notice a couple in heavily clad punk rock attire, piercings, leather studded jackets and tattoos. I ask where they are from, they tell me Italy. Normally I wouldn’t be so specific but I was under the impression that these people I encountered were some sort of angels, so I ask if they know my dad, because he is from Italy. I say, “Do you know my dad, Vittorio Ciummo, he’s from Aquaviva d’Isernia.” Now Aquaviva is a tiny little remote rural village that not many Italians would know of, but the male punker dude says, “Yes we know him, yes!” I kind of figured that they would for some reason. Anyway, I continue to be about to ascend the stairs to the El platform but encounter an elderly black man with a cane in front of me. He is walking extremely slow and I consider going around him but realize it would be rude, so I wait in back of him as we ascend the platform. It takes about 5 minutes just to get up the stairs! Once on top I finally can pass him, so I do, but then he begins to approach and tell me all about his life as an electrician! I looked at his eyes and notice they are my dad’s eyes, exactly like my dad’s eyes, yet this man is black, well light colored black, like coffee. (“Coffee flavored kisses” - Monkees) I realize that this could be an angel in disguise, perhaps God the Father, so I lunge forward and kiss him on the cheek. He seems surprised and says, “Sir! Sir!, what are you doing?!” Afterward he continues to tell me of his life, tells me his name, Harry Dishener, poignantly spells it out D-I-S-H-E-N-E-R. Well the train arrives and we go our separate ways. I climb aboard but he stays behind.

I get off at the next stop, Wellington, not satisfied with my the results of my quest just yet. I walk away from the train back towards the stairs as two young women approach a garbage can where I am heading. They have the Chicago Sun-Times in they hands, both ladies holding the same paper on the edge of the can, smiling, waiting for me to ask if I can have that paper before they throw it away. So I do and they give it to me gladly, as if that was their intention in the first place. I take the paper, dumbfounded, walk down the platform and go to a parking garage to think. The top story in the paper is about a movie staring Will Smith called The Pursuit of Happyness, which is about a story of a father and his son.

Still not satisfied I see there is a hospital in front of me - Illinois Masonic Hospital. I go in and give the receptionist the name of my former girlfriend, wondering if she is there, she isn’t. I then see a young male security guard, white walking towards me. I ask if I can walk with him, he doesn’t seem to mind. We walk together though the halls. He asks if I want to go to the cafeteria for some food. I agree. We sit there at a table while he tells me that this is his first day on the job. Another amicable Indian man approaches me as I am sitting. He appears to be another manager. He asks about me, my name, why I’m there. He is very accepting and approving.

Well the security guard and I part ways and I exit the building. I’m now on the street again and another hospital security guard approaches me and asks if I’m looking for the Emergency Room. I tell him, that I suppose so and he leads me to the ER door. I go in, with my bag of birds, and tell the admissions nurse that I’m having problems “seeing and hearing”. I’m being figurative. She tells me to have a seat. I wait. There are other patients waiting. A little girl crying in pain next to me. I pull out a bird and give it to her mother. She smiles and the girl lights up. Another man is sad in the corner. I walk over and give him a bird, he smiles and thanks me.

My name is finally called. The intake nurse knows me. I don’t know her. She appears to have been expecting me. I tell her my “problem” and she takes me in.

I’m on a cart being wheeled to a hallway section of the ER room. I wait there. Another security guard, black, is sitting next to me typing on a computer. He calls me “Numero Uno”. I’m thinking, what the hell are you talking about? I start singing a song as I’m waiting, “From Me to You” by the Beatles. He comments on the song, “Nice song!” There is a man in the room directly in front of me that is staring at me. He doesn’t stop staring at me, so I stare back. In the mean time, my blood is drawn. More waiting. Next I’m wheeled in a wheelchair to another room for an MRI, or a CATSCAN, one of the two. That done, I’m wheeled back to my cart across the staring man.

An ER doctor with an UIC logo on her coat approaches me - University of Illinois at Chicago, my alma mater - (You I See), which also has a hospital on campus. She hands me a clipboard with columns and rows of numbers. There is a margin between the first column on the left, which numbers the rows, and the then rest of the columns. She asks me to tell her the first number (which is a 1) on the first line as she conspicuously puts her index finger on the number one at the left implying that the first column “shouldn’t” count. But I realize she conducting a trick test, so I say the number that she intentionally covered, “one”. She looks at me approvingly, and says “yep, you see perfect.” She then asks if I know the name of the hospital that I’m in. I tell her “Masonic?”. Another “mhmmm”. She asks me why I am here and I tell her that I’m looking for my former lover as well as all the former girlfriends I loved. She tells me that they are right behind the door in front of me and that I just need to wait a while longer. She goes away. The dude across is still staring at me, hmmm. I begin to get excited at the possibility of having sex with all my past loves so I pull my wedding ring off and throw it in the waste basket. The doctor comes back and sticks an IV into me. More waiting. I notice a man talking to a woman across the way in the hall. He’s describing a woman who has a terrible problem with violence and debating what to do with her. I’m reading in to it and thinking that he’s talking about my wife. The doctor comes back and injects a needle into me with something that almost immediately makes my penis erect. She then comes backs in a few minutes and asks me to pee in a cup. Well, it’s now impossible to pee because I have an erection that won’t go down.

I focus again on the man staring at me across the hall. I get up and go into his room, he gets defensive, like we are ready to fight. But instead I start talking to him and trying to comprehend him. He seemed delusional. After about ten minutes of talking we start talking about pop music. I explain how certain groups encoded anti-Jewish statements into their songs. I bring up the Beatles “I’ll Get You” (I’ll get Jew, I’ll get Jew in the end, oh yes I will, I’ll get Jew in the end.), And Led Zeppelin’s “Stairway to Heaven” (And did Jew know, your stairway lies on the whispering wind.). At this point I am so angry with the Jewish conspiracy over the world that I loose my erection. Fuming mad for being there and allowing them to tempt me, I go to the waste basket, dig for my ring, go the to bathroom, piss in the cup, go back to my cart and rip the IV out of my arm, and storm out of that hell hole.

As I’m outside I see a group of people, men and women huddled together saying “mission accomplished” to each other. I realize they are talking about me and shout at them, “Yea, I’ll say!!!”, And storm off to catch the El train out of town. The next day would get even more crazy.....

To be continued.

(i  think donald marshall is one of stevies alters...) he was led to that hospital too, led, led zeppelin stairway to heaven?? ok im getting weird now!???