Saturday, July 14, 2018

RP: My Letter Just Emailed to THREE FINE WOMEN I Knew First at Whetstone High in Columbus, Ohio in 1968 (Sandy Mader, Valerie Diamond, and Liz "Blessed" Blees):

RE-PRINTED from here

July 14, 2018

Hello Sandy Mader Holladay, Val Diamond Wales, and Liz “Bless” Blees Pearson (in order of re-connection),

Sorry, I have likely ambushed you with all my drama, but I was the last assistant to Tennessee Williams. And the funny thing is that Sandy and I communicated over my blog about three years ago – but neither of us knew we were Whetstone grads at the time.

Even I didn’t know the financial and political power of my Kenan Family – only beginning to discover it in 2009, although we lived across from Coach Lou Holtz in Columbus, and I had not yet recognized the small alternating lime green and pink Swastikas that rimmed our every-day china as part of my mother’s subliminal programming.

And what difference does it make -- if we are all fine – as is my mother (after an awakening and a change of heart). Well, I am not who should decide on the fate of those who made the near NAZI-takeover of the USA possible – I am just proud to have done all I possibly could to stop it – primarily through my blog and many Letters sent -- so that I got PROOF of receipt.

In 2010, I was thrown into a sewer with NO IDEA why it happened. All I could do was become adept at sewer-fighting, and given my being forced at knife-point to sexually service the entire Crack House in Puerto Vallarta where two sons of El Chapo Guzman held me captive for five weeks, my sense of normal is polluted. 

Martin Guzman, above, is still hiding in central Mexico -- his half brother Alberto Guzman is in prison near Puerto Vallarta, for a grizzly murder they both committed in late 2010.

"Toro" (a HUGE GROWER) owned the house on Calle Costa Rico, and LOVED having lots of sex!!!

I picked up no STDs and enjoyed some of them. But these things change a person – like so many people I know being murdered in Mafia Wars (by the CIA, mostly), and one by Wilmington Police, as I’ve recently blogged about again. And I was beaten severely three times but knew enough First Aid to know I just had to wait the five or so weeks for the bruised ribs and muscles to heal – no doctor needed.

I was poisoned – once to the very edge of death – five times too.

I was BUILT to handle this – so don’t feel at all bad for ME!!! By the Healing Grace of the Almighty (aka Infinite Mind fueled by Perfect Love), I am doing better all the time – and believe that my blog has played an important role in exposing the EVIL at the heart of American Society – but ALSO to Honor all the Beauty and Love that is triumphing as I type. It is all real in the Spiritual World, but trickles into the Physical more slowly – so my work is actually done (but Drama Queen that I am, I will continue to entertain about it, but now transition into a new role that I do not yet see clearly).

And since at least two of you ended up Psychologists, I’d like to BRAG that it was two descendants of the three Kenan brothers (Ulster Scots) who landed separately in Wilmington, NC in the 1730s, who were MOST responsible for Homosexuality being DROPPED from the DSM in 1973 (different surnames than Kenan) – the Head of the APA then, and the shrink that compiled all the studies to decide. And that was found for me in the Kenan genealogy in 2010 by a young female Canadian Drug-Trafficker who with her HOT male prostitute boyfriend held me for only about three weeks in PV. They also stole one of my cats I’d had in Georgia for eight years.

Also, anyone interested in “visions” and the paranormal might be interested in my visions recently described here:

What I did not have time to mention there, is that in the Prologue of my memoir, although I describe very well Café Sud in South Philly, my fave restaurant in 1979, when I lived half a year with my brother Mike, and several more months in Little Italy in South Philly (among the Familia Mafias who loved me – like Frank Sinatra’s heirs did in 2011).

I wrote it that way because REALLY, Tennessee Williams absolutely appeared to me in my bedroom as a mostly-solid hologram at the foot of my bed – awakening me the night he died – before I knew about it. And I was afraid I would be COMMITTED AGAIN if I wrote it “straight”. Still, it works:

Much later, John Uecker (who smothered Tennessee with a pillow on command of the Episcopal Church/Sewanee), claimed he saw the Ghost of Tennessee leave by the window of Hotel Elysée,, to visit me (he’s full of crap), but Mark Beard did a GREAT etching of it and gave me permission to publish it – it originally in a limited edition book that last I heard sold for $50,000.00 for a single copy via Sotheby’s.

I will soon publish this wee missive on blog with ADDED illustrations here:

ALL of you have been important to me – and it was a BLESSING that I have had no contact with anyone (knowingly), since at least 1973. You knew me both before and after my adventures, so have a unique perspective on what happened to the me you and I knew back then.

Carry ON!!!


Scott Kenan


No comments: