I guess there are jobs in this as well. The Medical Field and Book Ghostwriting. Well, it’s like Giant Gas Ovens and Things that Go Bump in the Daylight.

By Karen S. Cole

A slightly (or heavily) crazy series of comments meant to be taken lightly… but they are about The Holocaust and Hitler. Hitler and the Holocaust. Sounds like a rock band. I know how serious it was. People lived, people died, people were tortured to death. And crippled.

Bear with me. I am another person who thinks she met Death. The hardest possible of all ways. But I lived through it, and years later I think I met the man who inspired me to save human lives. Yes, he is not a nice guy. Except for sometimes, when he is gentle and peaceful.

The rest of this is kind of addressed to that very same man.

Waitaminute, racially impure me. I haven’t fallen off the cliff yet. Why is that? The English were the big secret, right? No, the Troubles, Rothschild, the Troubles. The Irish Republican Army welcomed me in all the way. You welcomed me in halfway, that’s better than NO way. Well, thrill to the smell of Archie, Reggie. Now I have two of Reg in my life???

And Millions of Dead Me. Mostly Starvation Victims of World War One. Oh, You Innocent Men of Yesterday. Giving me something to write you about as well. You have more fans in Ohio than you can shake a stick at, because we’ve all figured it out. You’re not evil, you just think you are, it was that LOUSY back then. Accept all medals you won; Richard Hamm worshipped his Purple Heart he won in Nam. He kept it until the day he committed suicide. Don’t you ever do that, and don’t you sink back into your wheelchair in defeat, even if you used to be a Nazi.

By the way…if so, I’d be Arquette and not Archie. Even though, check the name, Reggie is male, and Archie is such an Irish female LOSER. They used to call Archie Comics “girl comics.” He’s supposed to be spreading AIDS all over comic books. If you invented that, you’re Satan and invented Witchcraft. No, YOU DIDN’T. You’re Al, you’re a nice older gentleman, and whatever you did is somehow okay. Even though it is that difficult. This begins with my FORGIVENESS. If you are responsible for the “AIDS epidemic,” well, other people are too. Including me, you and a dog named Boo. Yes, I was called the Boo. I edit everything I write. Artwork is always harder; it is the most difficult thing to edit into place. You did artwork? You’re right; you’re way above me, Mr. Dictator. Alias Batman, Superman, whoever, but I think Goering works as Wonder Woman. Invisible plane, sheesh, and a…no, he’s whoever he was too.

By one very conflicted but not too confused Karen S. Cole

Author of her own Victory Garden called Shell Park

Book is The Rainbow Horizon: A Tale of Goofy Chaos

My Victory is in 1986, Dr. King and the Kaiser year – THANK YOU!!!

Who got very angry at Albert Einstein also? I did. America too.

Whose married name is indeed Karen Peralta

Jerry Lewis is an Absolute Saint who helps the disabled, but

If not for certain someone’s – no such Russian Jews.

Long live you and Jerry, Al. He’s dead supposedly, don’t be.

Accidental Ebook Finally Written – Dear God

Thank you, Al for helping me do some more drawings.

I’m the Founder and Sole Member of the Let’s Save Hitler Movement.

And am sure it has millions of other members.

Possibly, 99% of the Internet and WWW. Or…50%?

Logic is my Einsteinian forte. It’s called having an Imagination.

Time Travel would destroy both you and my husbands? My dead body first. But no.

Different opinions count. I’m a Nathan Halite, a Bruce Lee wannabee, and I’m a serious student of the perpetual Holocaust…I think I’m in it.

Without you, Dear Sir, I would never have met Ronald Gary Schwarz, nor saved Seattle from a giant spreading housefire. Due to your service in Vietnam alone is provable. Same with my veteran second husband. Lucky is my middle name, not Faith nor Merle nor good red herring. But you see, skills of some kind were involved. Or, divine interventions. Maybe it’s all Chernobyl by now though, or ghosts.

By serving in the feckless fruitless Nam, I was kept from being drafted. I was there sleeping within the right arm of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. (your “son,” Sir), who was there to protect me. Due to the actions of one Gerald Clyde Cole, Jr. He was not into any other wars, except they sent him EVERYWHERE. I’D BET MY BOTTOM DOLLAR HE MET YOU SOMEWHERE, AL THERE. And he told you about his real Dad, is what those names were doing in your writings, former Adolf person. So, you can make like I’m crazy or a Nazi, but you wrote about Karen. It’s because I was talking in complete sentences a tad bit EARLY. Due to that wonderful “racial impurity” clause that turned out to be only anti-Semitism but was against me anyway. So be it, but it never mattered to me.

Even though I signed for girls to be thus indoctrinated. A whole generation being wiped out wouldn’t have been a good idea. Thus, the Nazis earlier. The very name reeks of evil, because War is pro fools. But I passed every physical test like you did, although I sucked at gymnastics. Except for making it over the GUYS’ pommel horse fast enough. With a split down and I had both legs splayed across. Over it, okay? Far as it went, not hand over hand, sideways and all. That, I never did, but you wanted, you got? Not always. Due to you, “Al” the Italian French dude, is the 100% probability I KNOW it is. We don’t always develop the upper body for that, we girls. We’re afraid of “Gee, you must be a lesbian,” and you’re right; fear is fear. But fear of lack of reproduction. Well, I was willing to dump reproduction for your goal, which was to become a Good Person. Maybe towards the end of your Life…hmm, then come to Jesus?

Don’t tell me you had Angela and Nate…oh well. Through Jayne? I won’t give you her last name, I still love my stepdaughter. Whatever odd Florida bargains you made so that alternate Hillary me. Wouldn’t forget that I have a bum ticker, so whatever happens to ol’ Archette here never mattered. How can it, I’m only one person…remind you of anyone you know. Maybe not. Since I’m female, and you keep reminding me. Completely. Of my older sister Connie. Unto forever, you Black-haired pair. I guess then instead of Reggie, you remain forever a Veronica Lodge in my mind, out of reach permanently. How about I make your IRA surrender for you. I hereby surrender to Al the Vietnam War veteran. Anything you want. How about this; Connie is a wonderful person who loves me. It’s no insult, except that you loved me far, far more than Connie ever will.

Not physically. Russia…Israel…Afghanistan…me? Do you need to keep up a secret of some kind…don’t think you’re that…you are very Male? Meanwhile, I’m sure you can beat me up. Archie and Reggie were always even Steven if you check. You can beat me up anytime, Al. If you can, but you stood back about a mile and made a certain announcement. You said you’re Jewish. So…hello, Jughead “Forsythe” Jones the US Marine. I never thought he was a stereotype. I fell in hopeless love with that character and he began my entire career of making any drawings happen whatsoever. So you put a spell on me, you Warlock. I am your that. Show some mercy, this is becoming a novel of some kind. World’s longest blog post.


How’d you guess that I was a Nam War Protester? They handed me the pegs to go up the US Marine’s peg board. I threw them both to either side, and said, “Thanks but no thanks, I quit!” Because they handed them to me. Dying in Nam FOR National Org of Women REASONS isn’t what I wanted, my Fellow American loser as it were. Please Al, be a Winner for everyone. I love you now, because you’re responsible for 100% of my wild American life. Also, for my vowing to become a Good Person and Save Seattle. Schutzstaffel, you have made for an easygoing life for me indeed. TRY TAKING ON THE AMERICAN PSYCHIATRIC BOARDS someday, for war veterans, you’re so Famous and Infamous that…

You’re not Satan. I THINK. At most, you’re like the God Aries. You’re too courageous to be entirely evil. Opposing God, the Atom is the order of the day. So, aren’t we you after all, it’s just a curtain call? You still hate Russia with every fiber of your being, you said. I saw a Lion roaring, and you immediately looked skinnier. Too thin to not be one attractive Lionlike, you British-looking dude. Maybe you’re a Jew who doppelgangers Hitler. Trouble is, both Adolf and Eva were part-Jewish.

I don’t know how Al is going to feel about this. He’s probably vacationing in the Riviera or the south of Spain right now. So, I’ll ask his earlier personality something, to see what he has to say back:


Connie and I had the kids. Not Christy for some reason. Each one, each a different husband, she has Joe and I have Remigio. Lots of Laughs is something you must be aware of, not exactly Al Qaeda. I have a Muslim friend named Al Emid. Well, I guess you can ask him about me if you want. He’ll tell you I barely ever got him any work, but that I’m dependable. AQ showed up on a pier in Seattle, almost in entirety. Like they were visiting for some reason. There is a purpose to chronic paranoia, I guess. Nature is now dictating my own personal version. Without my having any real access to the medications, due to Shock Treatment. And you had Freud executed, while I still don’t know why. Or was it you, Al?

Don’t blame yourself. Others did your bidding. Well, I guess I did. You said go do good, that’s what I saw. Dead people are not the idea. Going against war, that is the Idea. You couldn’t take all the evil. You didn’t want it, neither did I or we.

How’d you guess that I’m sort of Archie and you’re sort of Reggie LOL due to you I married Reggie. He’s Remigio, congratulations on Faith. For all I know, she’s Eva’s daughter. She looks that gorgeous and young. I’d be jealous but I’m not a man. So, I’m jealous of her, you old RASCAL. Well, you know I’m not the judgmental type now, I think. Just think I left out the “e” for Easy Company, even though I slept around more than you did. You wouldn’t believe it, but I’m Archie/Betty – Reggie/Betty. The daughter is Veronica, I think, but she’s working her butt off to make ends meet. Well, WWII bankrupted everybody, so Neo Nazis have very little say. They’re right about Germany, it’s time to slow down on Reparations.

I’M NOT ANTI-SEMITIC. I’M PRO NON-VIOLENT NEOS. CALL PAUL SIMON AL. Yes, dear, that is the real founder, rocker Paul Simon of Hello Darkness my old Friend, I’ve come to talk…hope is good. I got you out of what and you did WHAT???

I can die now. Call me Al, but don’t call me, Al. If you’re “Italian Al,” I’m the Mona Lisa. But yes, the Roman Empire killed “Jesus,” Nazi Jesus. Well, I never met anyone that famous or infamous before, and you wouldn’t believe the respect. It came on autopilot before I even knew what was going on. Before I even read Mein Kampf. My Philippino-American husband couldn’t care less. He figures the whole Holocaust was unimportant. I wished I was in it. But first, the anger I felt against you for killing all my people and me too was…difficult. Then it dawned on me it had all happened in the Pleistocene Era, okay? But I helped survivor Simon Lewenberg write Simon Says, and the Neos let me save their fearless leader from extinction.

Healthy viewpoint perhaps.

Hey, Freud was trying to help us everyone by lowering the dosages. Then suddenly, he’s upside down like a bat in a dungeon. And you said something about having FOUNDED Fair of Face hospital. Gee. Maybe it means something that you are an up and at ‘em man now. A regular magician. On the other hand, I’d rather you were. The kind who got to go on living. To 150 in fact. While off meds or whatever works for you the best. I’m into surviving myself, I think. But you may have to do it for me, altogether, I’ve got a bum ticker. Can you live on for me out of a wheelchair, Al, Adolf, Jewish French Italian attractive man or whatever your name is?

So…are you going to write me back something to hurt my feelings? Threatening to sue me, while going on about how I gave you “that idea?” Or can you write me back, Al the Italian, dude with the similar nomenclature to my Grampa Chuck Fuhrer? Back in the day, the umlaut was important. That’s right, and I’ll bet you’ve heard even weirder stories. You know, I’d rather like you than get on your bad side. You must be the Incredible Hulk. “You don’t want to get me angry.” I’ll say, maybe you could still have me executed. Way things are with my myocardial infarction (I feel it all the time now) that would be doing me a big favor, I guess. But you know, don’t Coup de Grasse me. I don’t deserve it.

And of course, what if you are that nice Vietnam War veteran I met. Hmmm, it is a kind of torture to not know. Is that the idea? Well, you have your shot right back at me. I didn’t lie, once I realized what was going on, I brought up the Kill Hitler Movement. I couldn’t figure it out, but it’s an attempt to kill off my First Husband. It wasn’t you, it was Ron, because if you are never born nor do what you did, Ron will never be born either. His parents fled from Austria to here and met in the Seattle area. So that would be lousy for me, to have never met nor fell in love with Ron. It also enabled me to save Seattle.

The Kill Hitler Movement isn’t as direct as it used to be. Nowadays, it involves either finding Hitler or killing him after it’s too late. Or going back to before he was born, and I guess aborting him. Too much of that, I started thinking, that poor bloke. Apart from Ron, and you know, I did admire you for having the guts to face down Russia while you folks were practically starving to death. Also, I found this cute baby picture of Hitler when he was maybe three months old.

He’s adorable like all babies are, wearing all white for some reason. As Adolf Rothschild. But the look on his face is telling, he looks like Jesus in the silver portrait we have at home. By that, I mean he is fully distraught at the camera, like he knows something is not going to be good in his life. The terrible reputation for killing people. Millions and millions and millions of people, slain and destroyed.

While I’m writing this, I am now scared out of my gourd. Al, if you are who I have finally decided you are…you are one scary muchacho. Well, you must be wondering why I’m writing you now. I’m also idiotic enough to have trusted Mr. Hess and Mr. Goebbels. As old men go, I’ll bet they could both beat me to a living pulp if either of them wanted to. Well, maybe Mr. Goebbels is not evil incarnate. He let me know about all you guys have left is facing your own demises. I had this weird urge to help you Nazis when I was reading that book. Anyone who says they are the villain…they need help.

Maybe something I can do that is not a money-making scheme? I have a pretty good track record at completing impossible missions. How about shaking up Al the Italian without doing so? I’m too learning disabled due to drugs to remember his LAST name. And I’m nutty enough to think I’m a feminist also.

Tell me what in this letter needs removed, Staff of Fairfax Hospital. If anything at all. I’m into telling the truth. I’m crippled, but it’s my journalism training. I haven’t worked regularly for years. If something cannot be shown to 70+ up to 130+ year-old Al, please let me know. I will rewrite this and water it down enough for said sufficiently happy and presently content adult person to not have to read it. It may contain things he simply doesn’t want to hear about, or things he isn’t allowed to read…really?

After all, oh Nazi staff of Fairfax, my stepdaughter has it all narrowed down to just me in this world too. And you know, what’s one more death among millions of others, really? If I’m going to Eternal Hell over this, do I finally get to do my wildest dreams with you, Al? I’m married, you’re married…I came on to you, didn’t I?

So, this personal letter is being perused. I wouldn’t mind so much if it was by Faith, or Eva Faith Braun. But I recall all that cruel laughter now. Once again, the idea is “I” here am the world’s only faggot, I guess. The problem is, her name is Womankind. So, if you’re all reading this in Switzerland, get a laugh out of this: I really meant it about the Kill Hitler Movement. It’s online under Time Travel, the idea is not one I find particularly palatable. I don’t need a dead Hitler before he was born, and don’t know why except for one thing:

Ronald Gary Schwarz

He doesn’t need expurgated or replaced. But you know, me getting on a high horse still makes no sense. No, I’m not your enemy. My grandmother Louise was German born. My grandfather Gerald Sr. apparently “took” her in a basement. He was English-American. So I don’t know, I’m not exactly the world’s biggest supporter of Great Britain and I tend to love the Monkees more than the Beatles. Seems less like nonsense and more like sympathizing. Yeah, if this was 1930 or 1940. It’s 2019, so my Dear Al, whoever you are, Dear God. Fifty years on psych meds. You are still a Great Man, you strange, strange and incredible person. I’m staggered and jealous, too.

I hate to admit it, but I still like Goebbels the most. I wish he could read this, but I guess the staff is filing this letter silently under things that blow up the Holocaust Museum and assault Rachel Maddow. Meanwhile, we had one Hell of a Talent Show together, you dear sweet old man you. If you are Al, and Al the coincidental Italian my most humble apologies. If not…the same.


However, I have no desire to insult anyone’s intelligence. I understand it is vast and covers a lot of ground. What? His intellect, but by now it may be rather dented due to, oh certain things. Fifty years is a very long time of being on weird hard drugs. I’m on them again, after some reports of inactivity. And I probably sound like I think I have a brain. Maybe half of one, if I think I can talk to “Al” from a distance.

And maybe he’s still a snake that is a Freight Train. I can only die once, which I’m on the verge of doing. He said he’s a Jew nowadays, but he still looks like a giant muscular freight train. I want to help him not hurt him, Al, but his name used to be well known. I’m not quite Beauty; are you still quite the Beast??? One very heroic villainous Red Black and White beast?

I have a mental image they all moved back to Hawaii or Switzerland and left you there high and dry, Al. Even your wife. Duh, but I’m better at writing than talking, like most literate people are nowadays. Yes, I’ve always liked Goebbels better for some reason. I recall him now he stood in the doorway like he was blocking something. What, I cannot fathom, but he did sign all that paperwork. To me, it’s like math homework, piling up over time.

He inspired my blog, Serious World Politics.

Mostly, uh, Fairfax, I think it’s a personal information question of sorts. Memories of my studies of a giant Dragon named H—-r are coming back. Kippling is one thing, Hitler is another. In the fiction novel I wrote, I didn’t feel brave enough to not hold his head high. The wrong way, I confess oh Al. I had my hero largely announce your death to say it was over, and gee like my Gabriello “Beau” Hooter Sancto for a change. Get away from “our” Hitler, you know? Go pick on JOSEPH Stalin or Mao Tse Tung or somebody else. Goebbels and Stalin having the same name means Stalin named himself after someone, though. In order to get sympathy?

Or to sign a lot more paperwork? Well, I guess the Final Solution simply means lots of factories for the bosses to control. Slave labor, that sort of thing really. But you did say you like Black Blues nowadays, uh, Al? Blues, though. Baby blue eyes, or songs of extreme heartbreak, degradation and pain…which one are you Al, are you the handsome older gentleman I saw, or a toothless and utmost Beast? A bit of an egomaniac, so am I. I always hated it in me, but you know, I could swear overpopulation and starvations have a meaning beyond your or my capacities. Some beast, eh? More of a Beat, or beatnik, but considering the Russian nature of such a word.

Would you care to criticize my book? If I let you know something about it, I’d take advice from you on what to do with it. I keep dreaming of something like what I did before. It could mean my life, I’m right on the verge of heart failure. You could push me right over it, but I wouldn’t be able to blame you for it. You know?

Once you were the deadliest force known to Man…I can only die once, once, once somehow. Yes, I’m starting to feel your hurricane, oh Himbacine Al. Himmler, Himmicane. Not funny. Well, deep subject, but gosh. You might make me fall off the cliff at last. Some part of me is no longer sleeping, I can’t tell if I’m in love or terrified. Okay, I’m one who slept with Ted Bundy and lived through it. Now this.

He wasn’t exactly my choice, and neither were you. This is true of you as well, so it’s mutual. I’m hoping we can get along, Big Wolfen. For all I know, I’m wrong and you’re Al the Italian. Roman Empire. With giant swastikas, um, huge machines that…banners floating, excitement mounting…I did save a Neo Nazi from extinction. Once. Must be what I was doing there. He came to die at your lily-white feet, yes? You are reformed nowadays, oh leader of Men?

Triumvirate Trump also impressed me. Carloads. I could swear the other day about one year ago, somebody buzzed me. In our car. My Mom’s car, an Oldsmobile. Whoever it was looked Mafiosi, after I had tweeted Trump. But maybe he’s a bit more of a “friend” now. Well, this is to let you know something about there being two of Adolf Hitler, Al. It takes four to tango when Trump is the OTHER TWO, MR. VARLET, IF AL IS WHO YOU ARE. For all I know, considering everything, you got him elected. So what…dunno.

LETTER for Al “the Italian” French Vietnam War Veteran (didn’t get his last name right, it sounded Italian) – a patient of Fairfax Hospital, the mental ward, on PTSD the usual four meds. In this case, Gabapentin, Lipitor, Zyprexa, and a fourth one I can’t recall. I don’t know Al well, but it feels like I’ve known an innocent man just about forever. The journey is what determines the destination. We don’t determine the Road called War; it does determine us. But we can build them. I might get angry in a harmless manner, if he’s as alone as I’m worried, he might be. If they all just took off and deserted him.

I’m too alone in this life to feel otherwise. I run a blog called Serious World Politics. It’s like trying to save the entire world. For all I know, Al (Italian name, gruff manner, may be back in a wheelchair) has gone home to Switzerland or wherever. He’s quite a rakish type. Type A Leader of men sort, God only knows who he really was or is.

This letter is not about Jews are this and that. They are simply other people, and I am one anyway, somewhat at least. I am trying to love the entire human race, and of course we women tend towards that because of our children. So do our men. Well, not everybody is like that, as my sister Connie is wont to say. Please bear with me. I’m also not a member of any organizations whatsoever. I used to belong to two work camps, the Youth Conservation Corps and the Young Adult Conservation Corps. Lucky me indeed, no problems in life next to other people in Europe a few short decades ago.

I want and need to work on better human rights for mental patients. And people to not be put on poison too often or too much. Or at all, although I must take it apparently myself right now. Until they release us from taking meds we don’t want to take.

I’m Karen Peralta, Al the Italian-named other mental patient and I won the talent contest in September 2019. He has reassured me he’s “only” Al from Switzerland. Is there a way to get this letter to him? Somehow? I just love him to Life. HE GOT UP OUT OF HIS WHEELCHAIR AND WALKED BECAUSE OF ME. After years of nobody caring about him BUT me. Potentially, the last 50 years, he says he’s well over 70. Young men are often war veterans, at 17 even.


The entire country of Rwanda forgave this man in 1994. The year my only child Angela was born. Because that is what they like to do, Christian-style forgiveness. Whether or NOT he is Al, or someone else. That really matters, why can’t it? There’s no reason why not!!! We all are finding out more every day. About how mental illness means PEOPLE. This man is my fellow artiste, he just needed to do what war requires of men and women.

He’s a veteran. Is there some way to communicate any further with him? He was extremely kind to me while I was on the mental ward. I so much as glanced ONCE at a book he may have written, and I wanted to be useful, Great and a good person for life. Dr. King found his speeches inspiring, perhaps. Not killing people, the speeches, please get it. Works for ideas such as I Have a Dream, or even ones by others down the line. At least Al is somebody real.

And if not, he’s still Al the War Veteran. I liked him okay. Loved, a bit and kept my distance. Not physically, but spiritually. Is there a way…yes there is – if you can get him this simple letter. Or, let me know what happened. I’m a trained journalist, but I would never reveal my source or sources. His Lady doesn’t need to worry either.

Al is a severe child abuse victim and so am I. But he’s far worse off in that department than I was. I knew how lucky I am because of him. My father never beat me or used the belt. My mother never even yelled at me, so I understand about the Oedipus thing. SOMEWHAT. Woody has a Lolita thing. I have a slight M-word habit that I have control over. I don’t have to worry about the deaths of multitudes.

Veteran Al may have people wanting to write him in droves and thank him for all the negative publicity brought to RACISM in his time. He’s partially responsible for it. Mostly, for one monumental reaction back…and he’s a genius. Hmm? The dynamic involved may have saved the planet. That means what for our Al, hey? How do we know what his original motivations were – I think he was an innocent kid, like everyone else, and wasn’t born reaching for a weapon.

Fairfax Mental Hospital

“The Old Folks’ Home”

The Intake brown-haired Jewish (or some other persuasion) Social Worker gentleman at Evergreen Hospital knows which ward it is. It’s the one with two common rooms, each with a TV set, and they hold groups. Maybe that nice blonde lady Michele (she happens to be Jewish) who does art therapy sometimes for Fairfax Hospital knows…them? Al has an Italian last name, but he recently went home. I think to Switzerland. Did he, ah, leave any forwarding address? If not, it’s quite understandable. At least he’s with loved ones. Maybe Faith and the other folks. Hopefully!!!

Unless he’s still there. I doubt he’s waiting for my letter. His lady friend said something about their all going home to Switzerland. I’m dying (maybe literally, I have a very bad heart) to talk with him again. I need to at least thank him in a way he said he could appreciate. He said I could try to write him; he just doubts he can be allowed to read the letter. Maybe it would require his wife or lady friend Faith, the Lady in Blue, to read it to him, he’s a Seasoned Citizen and his eyes aren’t what they used to be. Possibly he can no longer read. He carries books around; his eyesight is blurry. But he has said he can read in some limited fashion, that would be terrific! He needs to be something other than “just useful” and happy now instead.

I’m hoping this isn’t me as Billy Budd. Going, “I love the Captain” about something I shouldn’t be doing. Hey, William Shatner from Star Trek got a great role out of that, playing Billy!!! I think I’m out to complete rescuing one of the Holocaust victims. THE BIGGEST HEARTED ONE OF ALL. I may be wrong about that, but if not, I’m trying to communicate with him at least. This could be a Miracle in Progress for me, and maybe for him as well. I’m racially impure, racially inferior, and used to be angrier than him. About oh, things, and I have gotten over it. I’ve never been that bad off.

Fifty years on psychiatric medication…wow. That’s what he told me; he’s been on them since he was a teenager. Or longer. Benders don’t come lightly, I guess; I think alcohol, coffee, cigs, pot and cocaine have something to do with this mess. Well, who can tell on it? To the authorities, about locked wards and enforced lives?

War is Hell, is that okay to say?

Evergreen Health Monroe

14701 179th Ave SE

Monroe, WA 98272

(360) 365-5300

Karen L. Peralta

4810 S. 3rd. Ave.

Everett, WA 98203

(425) 205-9707

Do tell Faith I love her too. I mean that, but carefully.

Staff of Fairfax Again: this letter is loaded with lots of personal information. If it’s too much, please let me know by texting or calling me at the number under Karen Peralta. I can resend a version with no personal info. I’m a book editor from several years ago. Retired nowadays, for the past three years and longer, semi-retired mostly.

I printed this off at the Library. My scanner is down for now. I plan on buying a new one soon, maybe by the time I’m ready to send this I will have bought one. It would be good to have one. Thanks, Al, for the writing practice. You got me to do my first drawings in years, too, I do fantasy artwork. Not the best, what I showed you.

But it was a start again, I used to do some good stuff. Planning on more. You’re excellent at motivating. You should be a motivational speaker or perhaps a book coach of some kind. I can’t invite you to join my old team, I’m too retired lately to take on new memberships. But thank you very much for inviting me to write you a letter. I like you a lot, don’t know why exactly. Apparently, you make me think about things in ways other people don’t seem to be able to accomplish. You’re giving me the strength to survive my perilous situation, from afar. You and your friends are good people, I liked all six of you. I hope I didn’t insult you folks in any way.

You’re all willing to face death without killing anybody!!!!!! As victories go, that’s incredible without being impossible.

I was AMAZED when Al stood up despite the giant belly. That wheelchair got left behind, due to little old me? WOOOOWWWW. I’m now only about 80 pounds overweight. You must have strong legs to be able to have stood up after all that long time. Troopers are like that; you must have spent years as boots on the ground.

The formula was a bit scrawled; I was completely unable to look it up online. Jayne and Reggie’s family have gone out to dinner for his birthday, so I’m taking this opportunity to write you.

I’m not lonely, Reggie, Sam and Joachim are making sure I’m okay. Along with all their relatives, except for Jayne. We’re not a threat, I was just too worried about the “packing heat” thing. I heard there were attempts on your life, but you reassured me things were probably going to be okay. Otherwise you seemed to be able to handle things. I’m jealous, I think I have always been that way, but you know, men can do things we can’t do. I’m sure that is changing, thanks to Nazarenes, Socialism and the Women’s Movement. And the Men’s Movement nowadays too. And Jews!!!! Etc.

Al, you have Grown Greater, by Leaps and Bounds, over time. You’re more courageous than you’ve ever been before. Don’t know how well I’m doing, but I feel pretty good. I think you’ve become what you needed to be, a good man. It’s clear to everyone nowadays that you had problems with it – due to the unspeakable entity called War. Only great aspect to it is how it advances civilizations. In my opinion, but maybe it makes encouragement happen too.

Some of that, I can’t enjoy, as it hurts too much. Other than that – if people can forgive each other, it’s a better world. Sure, ‘n doesn’t always happen. Would that be boring, I don’t know. Brave New World is about technology. I worry too much about love vanishing, monitoring people, machines taking over the world. Maybe since the Great Wars, life is getting a whole lot better. If you believe in a planet that used to be a giant hot ball and is now a beautiful place. Persecution of yourself is not worthwhile. In any way. Rescuing yourself like Whitney Houston said, “Is the Greatest Love of All.” Your Lady in Blue agrees with me, you are WAY too hard on you, Al! Russia is a lot better lately too. I think they will change. They exploded two N-word Neutron bombs WITHIN the borders of the country that USED to be the Soviet Union.

Vengeance belongs to nobody. No one at all. Once, perhaps, you were the Lord of a lot. The ruler of our lives is us – whenever we can do things. But the Road, you know? Where it leads. The thrill is whatever you can make it, you know that, Al, and by golly you inspired me to save Seattle. You need to know about that, Mr. Other Dragon – in China, Dragons are good. Racial purity is turning passé, but those who look it are still good too! I’m not all good myself, I’m working on it the best I can. I never enjoyed being “pure” because LOL I’m a natural redhead, you see. Ginger covered with freckles. I should dislike you Al, but don’t, and I’ve never hated you. I’ve been arch, I’ve been doubtful…I’ve been idiotic. I like you; you are somewhere above me in this scheme of things.

I wrote books. I have achieved all I’ve set out to do. Death can take me, and it will NEVER BE YOUR FAULT. Forever. It’s the fault of cigarettes I figure, and your problems may be Alcohol, Artie Blend, for all we know. If you recognize that name, you know what you said so long ago. You need to stop worrying about dead people.

I run a blog called Serious World Politics. It doesn’t have the readership it used to, I’m working on building it back up somewhat and I did write about our misadventures during my 20+ days at Fairfax Mental Hospital. There is a piece there, I don’t know how you’d feel about it. I’d love some good honest criticism, or any suggestions other than just “take it down.” I probably would – but am planning on keeping it to run in my autobiography someday. It’s now a permanent part of the WWW, that can never be changed.

This is 50 pages now, really. And I will have to print it off to send it to you. And all six of you may be in Switzerland by now. I wish I hadn’t mentioned what I mentioned. Mostly I was scared Sam and/or Joachim would show up with a gun. Or even Tom. Should have figured Fairfax would confiscate them on their way in. But each of them is American and has a concealed weapons permit, and you know, guns in shopping malls…? I had to handle that once. I heard Mr. H—s had a woe there. Something like the Immoral Imminority showed up, near S—–u P—–n and tried to make him do stuff he didn’t want to do. You’re not cowards, you’re brave Joseph fathers, maybe from a place once known as the Fatherland, okay? There was certainly involvement by a Mother Russia, right?

Certainly, there is a new child, not anti-Semitic, called America. I was born here 59 years ago, 71 or 73 or 90 something or 130-year-old dude. Who worships Black Soul? Black hair counts. My sister Connie was loaded with it before she went grey. She was the picture of a Good German Girl, freckles and all. We were Christian, not Jewish, but after two Jewish husbands (and during the second one, he is very much still with me at 82) I love Shmuel for what he did. So brave of him, I am wondering about a positive conspiracy by you folks for a change. But I’m sure it’s Wyrd coincidence…maybe Nature has something nice in mind for me before I die.

I really don’t know how you’d feel about “my favorite three N-words.” They are not n—-s or anything like that. They are something to do with a giant and overly attractive male Dragon, and a tall man who always looked like such a liberal in photos, and a man who was into communicating something I could barely understand. Okay? N-words, little short Jewish Joseph-oriented four-letter N-words. That meant safety for your wives and children somehow. Even if only in the spiritual sense, faking safety from Russia and American Planet Israel, otherwise known as Krypton. Joseph apparently preferred feeding children to other things.

I keep thinking, reverse psychology ended anti-Semitism. It’s just a matter of about 20 more years. Ask someone in 2070 AD what anti-Semitism is, they will say, “I don’t know. Never heard of that.” The meaning? Jews BEING still around, and nobody dislikes them! Everybody getting along – like, say, a thousand years of Peace? That is followed by ANOTHER thousand years of peace, etc.? Hey, have you ever tried really reaching out for the other side?

Would be lovely, there might be job potential in cutting down trees and building housing. Jackie Chan has me talked into it – he likes “No fight.” My husband is a Vietnam vet and he likes Ending War. They are way above me in the Genius Pantheon and I like their style totally to the maximum. Trick will be to get away from killing people. Might be a dream, but by golly I know certain Dreamers. Well, brown people they are, sometimes they see things that way. War may be inevitable, conflicts at least, but I could swear everything IS SMALLER NOWADAYS THAN WWII. I could swear.

I am a Masculinist, Mr. Al. I don’t mind dying as much as I think I do. To me, men could be better than women, but we run to catch up. It’s fates worse than death that haunt me.

And I don’t need a dead A—f H—-r at all. He’s a book author. I don’t need to work for him. I just care about what happened to him, and what happened to everyone else. My name is Karen, but I don’t think that is quite it. Maybe, which is okay with me. If you’re him, I don’t hate you. Call me what you like, but it’s neither Christianity nor Judaism. It isn’t Islam, if it’s particular to me that is just too bad. I’m a ghostwriter and I do try to be something like “all things to all people.” I’m scared spitless you people think I’m crazy. And then it’s time for Nazi brain surgery or something esoteric that’s peculiar. If I risk a kind of personal Hell for you, does it matter?

If I’m a Buddhist, I’m all such persuasions…that I qualify for, I guess, or that whoever it is will allow me to be. About me being a Maggot, I agree, but it’s a bit late in life (chuckle) for me to seriously consider joining the military. You’re great at making me stand up to things, Reverend Al there. So was “that horrible book’s author” that told me the Holocaust happened. Somebody was a decent enough journalist to let me know. I don’t think it was a boast, somehow.

And if you are Al the Italian, whose name I have forgotten due to learning disabilities – please do learn from that. My signature has always been on the level, neither up nor down. If you HAD a signature involving serious space travel, you might recall you mentioned it. A rather downer one, and I’m grateful things are looking UP!!!! Designer formulas – did Italy land one on the moon – or N-words in red and black and white – maybe it never mattered. Wise guys are something my Dad never liked, but he was one. I don’t want to be one myself, not anymore, it always felt like being a bully to me. You’re not one anymore Al, are you? Maybe not to begin with but who knows. Wisdom is something there should be. I like herbal medicine. But this is unwise of me, if somehow it has an extreme meaning.

And now for something completely different: I had your stripe of courage just before I entered your realm, twice. I managed to be evil perhaps, but I think I was brave instead. I suggested something to President Trump about using the neutron bombs. In a constructive manner, in order to take down trees in Northern Russia. Well, it looks like that direct Twitter line worked. I got through, and Premier Putin himself directed their explosions.

What the heck, it seems to have worked. I thought a wall of misty water sailed straight towards this not very aghast woman who has a bad heart anyway LOL! It was probably just a related cold front moving down from the South. Right around the time I did that. Superstition isn’t always correct you know. Time is flowing in some strange and mysterious ways though.

I have experience at cutting down trees (and not Jews) isn’t the easiest thing. Yew trees, they’re not hard, but Evergreens are over 100 feet tall sometimes, God only knows how hard to take down. Some trees are purportedly over 500 feet tall – the SIZE of those monsters, they’re beautiful but far deadlier than anything human. They contain giant insect life forms that kill people working on them.

Natural gas and neutron bombs. You once dug natural gas, possibly. I am still Wendy, “Peter Pan,” try it at heart – my little girl Wendy has flown the coop. She grew up and is 25 this December. I remain childish as I’m like Shirley Jackson, Mary Shelley, James Barrie and L. Frank Baum. I write fiction frequently. This isn’t it. I am praying that my family too guns-oriented didn’t shoot my Angela’s boyfriend and her when I wasn’t looking, overpopulation does that. Why you’re an innocent man is it WAS overpopulated, Which China freely admitted. A hard thing to face, overcrowded living conditions. I knew Ted Bundy and Gary Ridgeway (the latter to a small extent), the Green River Murderers. Gary is from Ohio. Like I am. Ted is from Seattle, and I had to talk him out of doing it to me, once so long ago.

I had not the conviction nor any such capacity to be merciless. He had me telling him to go back to Seattle, so I’d feel responsible for what he did. But he was Uncle Ted. German and Native American, again like me. He cleared out enough office space of people for my brown and Philippino daughter Angela to get a job, so it isn’t impossible. Due to his need for “vengeance,” it was the wrong thing to do. Angie would’ve gotten the job anyway, I think, as it was security guard work. Due to people like Ted, though.

You know Al the Italian, I don’t, how much that end of things hurts. But remain aware that one of the legends of Seattle, not invented by me, is forever named Uncle Ted. There is a movie called Ted, about a talking Teddy bear and how he is killed at the end due to his being too rough and ready to understand real life. Jews made that movie, to show us they did understand Ted Bundy.

Or possibly, it was Ted Cruz, Teddy bears in general…I think it was Seattle’s Uncle Ted, due to Marriage with Children starring a character named Al Bundy. Gary could get married and have children, too. Well, he did! After what he did, which was simply horrendous. Not what I did at all. But Seattle is now more overcrowded than ever, and still a highly livable city.

All I know is, I was as disgusted with me as I was with Ted. I met him in an American Youth Hostel in Boulder, Colorado in 1980. He was sexually aggressive; I didn’t think of it as rape. But I knew who he was, what he’d done, it took a bit of time to sink in. He was fast, I was slow, I’m female and it’s different for us. I insisted I had to go to the bathroom; ever the gentleman, he let me. Then I dinged the hostel desk bell over and over repeatedly, loudly. Letting Ted know and shouted I was letting them know things were NOT good, while he and I were all alone in that big room over there. The girl at the front desk asked what was wrong. I said, “Oh, it’s okay, just be aware of things if you don’t mind.”

No dead me. I made Ted wear a condom. Told him due to the economy, I couldn’t afford a kid. Uncle Ted believed me, dear God. He willingly did, and so I held him, and we fell asleep in each other’s arms. When I got to Seattle, after having told him where I was going, I made sure my phone number was unlisted. To this day, I have thoughts it was somewhat my fault, but no uh. Seattle was an old stomping grounds of his, and he had zip rationale. No Russia nor Israel but women, but I had to agree – we are mostly where babies come from. I wasn’t ready to die yet. He spent years haunting office buildings in downtown Seattle, looking for women to kill.

He, Ridgeway and others: Jack wannabees, H—r wannabees. I guess, or something unknown to all but Native America. There is a legend, the Wendy’s sign has never stated it out loud, called the Wendigo. It is a giant woman who eats people, and supposedly it took out excess population. So did eugenics, and other such horrifying methods. Safe, clean legal abortion should suffice in the future, I think, or abstinence. I used condoms for years and I’ve had exactly one child.


This could end up as an ebook, unless Al the Italian Vietnam Veteran and his Blue Lovely Lady Faith tell me otherwise. Al, I’ll go by whatever you say. I’m a ghostwriter and try hard to be ethical and always go by my client’s absolute voice. We’ve both been courageous, you’ve been purportedly…doing things I cannot experience directly. What Faith has been through I don’t know at all. Judgement calls and second guessing are difficult.

Somebody named Frida, who admitted something – but not the name, told me there was only so far things could go. I always liked her the most. When I looked at your photos in Junior High School, my heart melted over her. Not because she was beautiful. Because she was in love. While starving to death, to REALLY let me know what was going on. I saw the pics of her and Mr. H—s starving. No farmlands after WWI, no nothing, how did you folks ever manage at all? We should have sent over more canned food, hardly any I think from the USA – I guess canned food can only get you so far. And those being fed were those starving and killing and defeating the multitudes.

If you can’t see what I’m saying…difficulty reading you know. I’m still in eyesight mode, nearly 60 it’s blurry but somehow adequate. Used to wear glasses, somehow this is working excellently. Hope this large type is any good. Nelly, this is getting longer and longer! I don’t know how you feel about this, or if you can even read it nowadays. If you’re that near 100 either way. Faith could surely read this to you.

If not, maybe Mr. H—s or Mr. G——s? Or whoever they were? On the Funny Farm, where pizen and pianos are the order of the day? Gee, what if seeing Sigmund Freud CAUSED WWII? No, Russia did and didn’t, due to Prussia, the Roman Empire…digressing. If they didn’t leave, you all have learned. I think you snatched the pebble from a hand you’re not aware of, called Red China. Since Eva or Faith winked at me, and I’m quite aware of Eva Faith Braun.

Silence is like darkness, my new friend.

I’ve come to talk with you again.

Because a vision softly creeping,

Left its seeds while I was sleeping.

You wouldn’t believe how much I’ve suffered

From being arrested and treated like total dirt.

But I haven’t been shot at a lot. Or I’d be dead.

I was shot at when 1.5, 16, and 20. Years of age,

Not 25 or 6 to 4? I was 25 when I saved Seattle.

It ended then, and I’m sure Vietnam was involved.

All on the street, one way or another.

What did I do? Nothing to hurt anybody.

I’m no Neo nor a liar.

One lengthy letter of sorts, dear Cousin

(I once ghostwrote a book about the Holocaust. By Simon Lewenberg, 10+ camp survivor – also of Auschwitz. He only dislikes himself. This is going to take a while, so be prepared. Maybe have Faith read it to you. Her eyes may still be sound enough to manage this well.)

By Karen Louise Peralta

Degree in Creative Writing, fine arts and Journalism

Rated genius in creativity (like Sherwood Schwartz, Jewish writer of Gilligan’s Island. A very strange way to make fun of the 1940s.)

Patient at Fairfax Hospital in September 2019

Fan of Dr. King and someone else

Let me in, Al and Faith. You are both leaders. But I’m German, English, Italian, Scottish (peaceful airplane H–s piloted, didn’t work, or did it?), Irish – the Troubles probably started things, yes. Games are fun when there is nothing serious going on, though. I’m Cherokee and must wonder about second chances. Mistakes?

This is for a man who told me he has yet to do good in the World. You may have known him; he was a world leader and very famous. Infamous to some, beloved to others, courageous as you. Responsible for lives, deaths, fortunes…the American Civil Rights Movement…Jewish liberty…lots of things.

Due to opposition to his policies. Without him, what would’ve happened? Something odd perhaps, or something else. Russia and the USA did run ram shod through Berlin anyway, either way, whether anything was slowed down by lack of wisdom.

I hope you learn to like yourself more, Al the Italian. You’re right about following rules while also breaking them. Whether treaties or your own, and maybe once you were right about evil. According to evolution, it may slowly fade out. Sort of like nightmares, but I guess what remains is however hard we fight against them.

I was looking for my Grampa, Gerald Clyde Cole, Sr. Perhaps you recall that, it may be quite a bit before you read this. If at all, I suppose you get lots of letters. If not…maybe you are safer than I know and could give an interview to anyone you’d like. As any name you go by, as anyone you really are. It might work, but who knows? Would love it if you could tell them something about medications. You looked unmistakably like you’re scared of absolutely nothing whatsoever. My husband too – LOL I mean he’s like that. Then, you turned out to be afraid for others. Offering your life up to the K—l H—-r people wasn’t fake, I believed you, you were afraid for the rest of us. You said, for the love of a good woman, you were prepared to risk it all. I could see you are a good man. Whether or not Pinocchio counts. Lying, I have trouble with it, whoever does it including me.

I hope I’m not a b—h because I’m so out of reach. There was once this giant Dragon named H—-r and I was scared to d—-h of him. Then he said, “Someday, child, you will find out what you don’t want to know. My interest in you will wane. (Then he gave me SUCH a look. From one side of his serpentine green eyes.) Meanwhile, you have won this brief battle with me. Later, you must lose forever, like I did.”

I was 14-15 at the time. At 16, I faced down a gun at a shopping mall, taking it away from the man who was threatening to use it to shoot innocent mall shoppers. Where I got my guts from may have been my Dad. I don’t know about genetics. My difficulties were in Columbus, Ohio, as I recall. So long ago. I remember “accidentally” shooting the gun behind me, too. Something I felt weird about, but at the time I knew nobody was there. The bullet pinged; people looked at me. I handed the gun to a cop and was arrested later but complained. They looked up the actual owner of the gun, lucky me. And didn’t railroad me into jail. Not then.

As to the Dragon? Back then he retreated from me, to go where I don’t know – possibly, Switzerland? He seemed to be running away from me so that I would give chase. I did and continued to read a great deal of books. Thousands of them. At least! Magazine articles, newspapers, I was already reading them, but MK made me read even more books and articles and blog posts. WWI caused WWII; Prussia caused WWI according to my friend Woody Allen. He’s right, you’re right, WWII caused Korea and Vietnam.

Earth One and Earth Two: obviously the Old World and the New One. When I was four, they took me to the War Room in the South of France. Because I could talk well when I was three months old. “Bad man in crib!” were my first words. About a certain Dragon on television. He was conducting an orchestra. And he looked like his ears hurt from having to hear all those horrible sounds. I thought he was a fake baby, while I was a real one.

Wars are only fun at a distance. Unless you can escape. In the War Room, I looked around and decided I’d rather be a lady and reproduce people than be a general. I knew better, thought those ladies I saw probably could do that. Don’t know if it was a coward’s excuse, especially at the time. But then again, no, it wasn’t. When I was one and a half, I joined the American Civil Rights Movement. Dr. King was at the Seattle Center along with Malcolm X back in 1962. The Seattle World’s Fair. This is what I recall, but my parents claimed it never happened. I’m not sure why they were into claiming that; I recall it. And meeting Ralph Abernathy when I was five as well. He was giving a speech, he bared his chest and said he wasn’t afraid to die. Poor Ralph never made it as the second leader.

And Afghanistan and Israel have been there forever. Under British colonial rule, America less and less now, Thank God or whoever. I’m now Jewish somewhat, but probably never fully. You must be born Jewish they say, or somehow…maybe Shmuel let me in. It’s a soldier’s way, though, or for those who reproduce them. One simple paragraph in Israeli or Hebrew, “You are now a Jew.” If you weren’t one before, as a soldier you’re entitled to be one. Hello!!! I believe you said you’re one. If a cover story, no, you are one as you please. As to me being an N—person if I please…not allowed, I think. Nor aloud, but considering the times, I might not have voted for a man giving it all over to Russia. The alternative would have been miserable. Well, I don’t do anything but support Israel myself.

Lucky me. Good youn’ America.

Miracles in progress: When Shmuel learned of my interest in you, or for that matter a certain “Der” person, he was rather angry and looked ready to kill me. Which he never got anywhere near. I don’t think he would have; I tend to be a follower of William Penn the Quaker. Nobody did it to Richard Nixon the Quaker, either. Shmuel and I mummed at the cameras and nothing happened. Could be I was worried needlessly. I defended Shmuel at the cameras is what he remembered. Other than that, he could have hurt me and then gone over the wall. He did go over it, if you’re going deaf, I don’t know if you heard. He was indeed a PTSD survivor Israeli, maybe from the Love Israel farm.

Shmuel may have guessed it about those in Love. I might be a bit of a S—t myself, but it’s a word they only use on women and gay men. I don’t think so, I’m not trying for you against Faith. She uses her middle name, and so does my entire family. Except for me. I was Mommy, Daddy, Christy, Connie and the baby was me. I’m Karen, I have a name and no number carved into my forehead. And no s——a or other token of merchandise. Some people are ethnocentric. I read some of Mr. G—–s and it was hard to understand or appreciate the N-word M——r of P——–a. Joseph the Minister, though. Hmm.

Standing up to Russia means something, dear Aries.

My apologies for insisting on you taking a shower. I dislike being itchy, I was worried you might be getting that way yourself. I didn’t mean you smelled; I do, it’s itching I cannot stand. But it’s a minor pain next to medication, especially three or four of them at a time. You should be on a one or two mg. dose of Ativan at most, you are mentally well nowadays. Whatever you used to do; I recall someone who once said putting it in the past is where it belongs. The past is dead except for history and those who cannot forget it. I do history books, I like reading. But dwelling on it is seldom good.

Well, there was once a European Civil War. From East to West, and West to East. I’m sure I had relatives on both sides of Europa and the War itself, so the Dragon meant it about retreating. N words and J words, and NJ words as well. What else isn’t news? I “like” our American Civil War being a cause of it, and the end of Native America and our Chief Sealth waving from a statue in Seattle. My Jewish teachers were opposed to Indians, I recall. Ouch.

You were brave in Vietnam, but everyone from Julius Caesar to you are right; it’s Hell and worthless. I keep wondering about Nam, but I would’ve been doing pushups in the pouring rain while being yelled at by Black lady sergeants and God only knows what else demanded of me. They made me take showers I didn’t need, three times daily. Big deal. I gave up on the US Navy once “they” saw me do something wrong. I’m learning disabled and never did keep up on the same page with the rest of them. Are you learning disabled too, Der? Probably. They said that Dragon dude was a genius; I know I am one too. Creative only. But not always afraid to die, just sometimes. Took my general discharge after one day. I’m glad I didn’t go to a war, there probably would suddenly have been those orders if I’d survived Basic Training. That’s how it is, and I’d be sent somewhere.

I’ve often wondered about rebelling against religion and being good for a change. Maybe I will have a new idea someday soon. I did have one about fighting a forest fire by myself. It worked! I like having new ideas, but the Internet was immediately attacked because it is new. Attacking new ideas is the same thing as child abuse.

People don’t like it and do it anyway. Such as, being friends with you. While I am not racially pure in any way. And no longer beautiful as I almost was in my youth. I know I’m not pretty. But yes, people have always been weird about me. I’m a victim of endless persecution that you never caused. If you were “Der,” you just reinvented that Catherine Wheel. If you aren’t…Trump likes American beauty. He’d kill and die for it apparently. Well, I’ve been enough to get pregnant with a wonderful man who is more creative than me.

Are you a hippy? I always wondered where that word is from. Maybe from knowing the Holocaust happened? Guess on my part. So, the American Peace Movement lead to the Strawberry Statement. The book that let me know the Vietnam War was over.


You should have seen Ohio in the 1970s. “Redrum – Four D—d in Ohio, Kent State.” Aside from the Moody Blues and tons of songs in the 60s and 70s. Psych meds started to be a thing around then in my life. Schizophrenia, when I was reading books about burning witches alive at the stake. It set me off, made me hear things coming from my TV set. Such as The Brady Bunch when it wasn’t on. I hated being such a coward, scared of those who had religious fixations and needed the death of all new ideas.

I began dreaming about solving problems in Ohio, as house burglary was the worst thing in the world. It made the H——-t look like a walk in the park, like giant trains were meaningless. It wasn’t just the violations; it was what burglars were doing that was hitting the papers. Stuff like leaving heads to watch things going. Things we’d learned in school, like what the Dragon said came back from the Inquisition. If you’re Der, Ohio was full of weird people who did stuff too. You’re not alone, it happened all through America.

Meanwhile reading certain comic books and other, more literary books made me argue with them. MK was one of the ones I felt a little eerily comforted by, due to the Dragon having lost the war. I kept hoping it meant something. Maybe it never will for people like me. It looks like it may start to, but we “gingers” could end up the Cause Celebre of the moment. Guts strewn on sofas haunted me. Psych meds too, but I guess in the end I will find my own peace. Starving people aside, everyone weathered the Holocaust. House burglaries were nobody’s cause until they invented very, very LOUD alarms. Thank God for those, I was into, but Frida didn’t like them I’m sure!!!!!!!!! I’m thanking for German ingenuity when it comes to loud alarms, cameras and other surveillance equipment.

And my daughter could end up in Germany the wrong way. What comforts one person is another woman’s poison. I hope and pray she is all right; if not, she is always in the Lord’s hands. No matter what happens. I hope you haven’t done anything rash. I tried to warn you about those who are out to hurt people like you. I never knew, Al, you and those other folks could be found at Fairfax. I can swear this to God, but how I could get you to believe me is beyond me completely. You seemed to be a certain book author who said this:

“I am A—f H—-r, Author of this book…” Next thing I knew, due to arguing with this strange um meister, I had the burning ambition to write my own books. So, I wrote three of them and they are published. Then thanks to Stan Lee and Philip Roth, I needed to write other people’s books too. Woody Allen turned me on to what I’m doing, he said he would be my Friend Forever. He is. I’m an agent and by now due to contacts and making lots of arrangements, I’m responsible for thousands of books. I may “criticize the fiends,” but, I now have lots of reading friends. My fiends are my friends and my enemies are few. Fewer than yours, I think, whoever you really were, Al the Italian. Jews making more money than me isn’t bothering me. I helped Laura Sherman make tons of money. She was great!!!!

I wish to God I could recall your Italianate last name. Due to my learning disability, I am terrible with names. Al as short for Albert got remembered, as in “We’re so sorry, Uncle Albert” I guess. There is a name Alois, but it may be not a happy one at that. You had a wonderful and Moslem-sounding name that was foreign to me, and now that I’m 59 I suppose I have trouble learning even more. I must take some classes when I have the time. Al, whatever is your splendid real name? It sounded lovely and kind of feminine, I guess I freaked out and “Al” was all I kept. Ethnocentrism. But you know, you are a real man. I think somehow, I needed to see that. You helped me do so more than you will ever know, perhaps.

It’s a spectacular difference, right down to the chromosomal structure. XX is female, XY is male. It’s an unshakable, immutable kind of thing, that it takes some imagination to transcend. Whether or not it is fully transcendable…I kind of doubt it myself. People can be bores when it comes to seeing two kinds. Very. The psych med problem is mutual, it is a lot of chemicals. Too high of dosages, your hands were shaking. You were in a wheelchair when I entered your life, now I’m afraid you might re-enter one. I am hoping, selfish as it may sound, that I assisted you in your voyage to somehow rectify your woes. You don’t deserve the ill treatment you have received throughout most of your young and adult life.

According to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, psych meds are coal tar derivatives. Needed for certain people? I will bet you could reinstitute talk therapy nowadays, and everyone would benefit.

Maybe you’re famous enough to do so. If not, you are certainly more than enough to do so. Especially in Switzerland. Word is hard to spread. I can’t seem to get it out myself, I’m better at advertising for my part-time ghostwriting business. Meds have their ups and downs. They seem to help people, but in the end, they have very awful side effects. They killed my first husband, the very Jew someone warned me all about in that book I mentioned before. This is getting a bit long, though.

I found you, Shmuel, Love Israel, and other leaders last time on the mental ward. How scary. Who will psychiatry go after next? Hopefully the drugs you’ve taken for 50 years shan’t prove fatal soon. I had to talk my second husband out of taking them. He doesn’t. He is doing much better on Life Extension products, which you can purchase online in Switzerland. Please tell everyone you know about them; everybody deserves a fair chance at life.

Whoever you happen to be in real life, including just Al the French soldier who served well in a mini hell called Nam. I know something of the French invasion and the continuation of WWII. So does Reggie, my second husband. I’m not asking you for your opinions, I’m not sure if you want to give them. I have no political powers. Instead, I freely admit I’m an investigative journalist, independently, who just happened to have been on the ward with you recently.

If you were who I think you were…let me know how mum I should keep. I am of the opinion you could tell all, and it’s long enough ago. But there are always certain people. Minority groups and countries. They cannot let it go; WWII was a huge, huge event. But if you’d like to take any chances, like Pres. Trump does, it might work. Money or not in it, you just might be okay. But you know?


Opening line from a book: “So, Russia is not invading us…” If I hadn’t been so hollow as a kid, so American, it would have made me cry. Tears from me were long gone. My Dad was never a War Criminal, he was defending us against Japan. But that never made him an innocent man, as you know. He also had severe mental problems, hiding them as WWII War Veterans were wont to do. He practically killed me and my two sisters. My Mom stopped him from tormenting me, but he didn’t hit me once. Hard to explain. Bombs do that, it’s called shell shock. You probably have it too.

Al, whoever you are (or were), I was never your enemy. You were so brave to offer up your life for me and us. Makes me think my self is very small. I never handled evil well. But meant what I said. Never meant to panic you or your posse of six people. I counted, and only saw three men (very brave and intriguing ones) and three women (very nice and lovely ones.) Long lived people. You all should take classes on Negative Attention. It’s why you want punished. I found that out, it’s what happens to severe child abuse victims.

This letter’s about a book and other writings I read once. By a somewhat Jewish man who used the word “b—h” quite a few times. I am that, really. But no, I’m just me…Waitaminute…life is one, and I had a kid!!!!!!! Whom I never would’ve had, without…history. I vowed I’d have a kid, despite all nails in my coffin. Both my parents smoked like chimneys until they were in their 40s. I’m grateful my only child, Angela Cristina Peralta, doesn’t smoke, drink or do drugs. She’s a vegetarian. It helped me lose weight on the ward.

She’s the world to me. Suddenly, she’s incommunicado. Her big sister probably lied to her, telling her things that never happened. Stuff about me being insane in ways I wasn’t. Jayne likes power too much, and she has less power over me than she thinks. Most of it is back at me for having married her father. She’s a Libertarian.

Racism situation mostly. They are brown, I look white. Sexism too. Thanks for questioning it. So did the American women’s movement. And I’m about as “racially pure” as you are. In other words, not. Events that happen twice can haunt, like WWI and WWII. And nuclear half-lives. Meanwhile, the K–l H—-r Movement turned out to be mostly a hoax, involving Time Travel, Einstein and relativity.

About the Night I Became Both Superman and Batman…

Karen S. Cole – Uncategorized – April 21, 2014 is the date this blog post was submitted by me.

Don’t get bored, but you’ve heard some of this before.

I’m a home health care aide (nurse for the DisAbled and Elders) who became a book ghostwriter. Karen S. Cole and The Rainbow Horizon: A Tale of Goofy Chaos is a book I wrote to oppose M–n K—f. Al, I hope you understand now. Whoever you are, I like you very much. You are obviously a leader type. Type A, never hurt yourself. Type A personalities who are mostly white men tend to.

And I don’t need any of your money. I have plenty. MK the book title had my name in it, which really is Karen. So, did D-s K—–l by K–l M–x. Der? The Bible never, ever did. I think that is where wires got crossed. You wouldn’t believe the arguing I did with that book. I swore I’d marry a Jewish man over it. The book author was sworn to oppose Israel and unmarried Jewish philanderers.

I married two Jews in a row. The first one was Ronald Gary Schwarz. Philandered a little, pressured into it by being a Young Turk. Name of student Vietnam War protesters and intellectuals in general. College student, he had a Master’s in Public Administration. He tried to run for political office, Seattle City Council. Gary died on medications on February 23rd of 2005. The second one is Remigio Venezuela Peralta. You can look him up online; I’m sure you don’t need to. He fought the Japanese; he and his brother did things you don’t need to hear about again.

Happy April 20th back in 2014. Maybe you will make 131 sometime down the line. Thought I’d mail this sooner, I have a bad and ailing heart. Didn’t know anything about your real birthday. Looked things up online via the World Wide Web – American Internet. There is a Japanese one now. Dr. King was shot on April 4 of 1968. I wrote a book called The Boys of Birmingham about that.

Simple coincidence on the date of my blog post being April 21. Or evidence of God and your own childhood innocence, and mine too. Looked up Der’s birthday and it will have to do in lieu of…something. By the way, I had a Grampa named Chuck F—-r. I don’t dare spell out that word.

And I am NOT a Neon Nazarene, either.


Believe it or not, I’m part of a Movement. It’s only the Making Sure Everyone is Okay Movement. Health people, you know. Me and my husband, and also Virginia Jarvis, and most other home health care aides. The dude who played Marcus Welby MD, all my doctors and nurses, etc. You know us, Der or Al. We’re like that. Ambulance workers, Reggie Peralta carried a stretcher all through Nam and rode copters and fell out into a swamp. Nearly died.

God, Jews and “other n-words” whom you may know about and Otherwise assisted against what would have been an extremely large, multi-forest (at least five large ones) arson fire. The imaginary superheroes were my German American big brothers, of course (vu den) Batman and Superman. Like Dr. King, they were named Germans. I have yet to figure out the fascination with Germany. Must be of strategic importance in wars. Captain Obvious I guess, but who really knows why?

Gregor Mendel. Martin Luther. Perhaps Johann Gutenberg? Pamphlets that worked, printing presses also. And one Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. who was a respecter of something.

Thank you so much for noticing!!!!!!!! No wonder you were living in King County. And you like Black People Blues. I hope it’s not painful memories. If so, do your best, fearless person. Who once knew what I don’t know, about evil and having a bad reputation? I know something of it, I’ve been arrested and hauled before the authorities. Jail cell person, if it is you…Al, if you are someone else…you both deserve to know about the below.

Even “imaginary” villains can be a big help. Like Lex Luthor and the Joker. Or, someone who meant a great deal to me. Who said once, “I hate being evil.” In his writings and teachings, he complained. FREQUENTLY. About having nothing but evil tools to work with, from the Catholic Inquisition.

I think you have saved my life more than once, Al.

That means someone once meant being evil is no good. For, “In the dark, it’s okay to kill people” means that in the light, it is not. I can only assume “whoever it was” really meant that. It does have a double meaning – or, does it? I think so many people have died in broad daylight, there is no way in Heaven it can.

I know War is Hell, but not that personally. Except I was in the War on Poverty, which means I shall die from it. Listened to the Moody Blues when I got home. Taking my meds. I think you should get your dosages drastically lowered. They hurt you over time…I know you figure you must pay. For Vietnam at least.

We’re both post-Protestant, Al. Remember Reggie Peralta, my Vietnam veteran husband? I was that “maggot” you mentioned. I was a bit more of a “fly” than you knew. Well, this is about me. I wish I could hear how you and Faith are doing, but maybe you at least made it back to Switzerland. I’m not out to get either of you, I’m no liar. My mother’s middle name was Merle.

But I am a fiction writer. The below is self-explanatory. Not a fiction story. Sherlock Holmes was based upon a real-life medical doctor, not Dr. Reinhardt in fact. A different one, and a good person. Reinhardt as you may know was Jack the Ripper. Germany always has a lot of weight to bear. America, even more.

As to the battle to k–l H—-r…I was not entirely mistaken. Please be cautious, but I think my worries were mostly unfounded. It just keeps cropping up online. Mostly to do with time travel and going back to his past. But I don’t believe in “evil babies.”

And the Night of the Long K—-s happened in both Germany and Japan. While the Internment happened in America. Right here on the West Coast, and the Inquisition was here too. I am a history student, if that is something I did not mention before.

By Karen S. Cole
– Alias Wonder Woman
Words: 3,600

Black man with his newborn son

Thank you very much for standing up to Russia. And please thank H—s and G——-s for me to. And their wives. If you can, but they both figure on paying to. Maybe not H—s so much. I wrote a brief song about him once. Well, for all I know you’re now wadding this up and throwing it. I meant what I said before about wanting to help you. Not against Jews; I’m a former lover of Jerry Lewis, a fan of Woody Allen…the list is so long, I love all Jews. Even Bernhard Goetz.


This is for Al (Alois was his Dad perhaps) Italian last name. I didn’t manage to memorize it when I was at Fairfax Mental Hospital. On the ward called “The Old Folks’ Home.”

Fictionalized account of what I really did. It involved channeling an ancient Austrian who had guts. The below is 90% of what happened, but not the whole story. What the real one involves is potentially scary but not intimidating. Said “Austrian” is now a reformed bloke as far as I’m concerned. We appear to like each other.

I’m not sure who’s reading this, if anyone.

This story is about how I saved a Middle-Aged Black Lady. However, I keep thinking she had relatives. I was saved by Bruce Lee and Chuck Norris that night, through Rich Little the famous Jewish impressionist. He taught me how to imitate others. So, Bruce and Chuck came in extremely handy that night, I used their finest moves. Lucky me. I’m no expert at martial arts, but David Carradine also helped us all. Yay Kung Fu, and Black book author Ralph Ellison!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I’m a professional freelance writer, perhaps mainly due to my youthful reading of thousands of comic books. But one night back in 1986, I became one of my favorite comic book superheroes – the Batman. And I’m not sure, but I know I probably also became his best friend, Superman, as well.


My true story goes like this: I woke up that morning in June thinking, “Today is the day of the arson fire.” I have no idea why I was thinking that and wondered if it had to do with my relationship with God. I had asked God for some things, and they had come true for me. I had asked Him to send me where I was needed by others, and I had ended up working for the disabled in the Seattle area; plus, I had asked to be able to fight fires, due to my time spent in the YACC fighting a small forest fire that was accidentally set when we burned a huge pile of slash.

We’d been clearing out an acre of slash on Bainbridge Island that was built during WWII in order to have a bunker from which to spy on any Japanese ships invading the area. This concrete bunker was completely buried under trees and other brush, which we cut down and burned in a pile in the center of the bunker area. But the slash pile burned so well, it being a very dry year in 1980, that the fire looked like it might escape the deep pit we were burning it in; it was leaping skyward, making a huge pillar of fire some 50 feet high. It looked like an atomic explosion, too.

I helped the others to contain it, and then found myself liking this. I wanted to fight more fires, especially big ones that encompassed huge areas. I turned down one chance offered to us YACC kids soon later to leap into or alongside such fires, as I thought it was too dangerous. I was right; some teenagers I knew who were dumped into such forest fires did die due to this dangerous practice. But that other day six years later, I suddenly found myself one morning thinking, “I have to fight a huge arson fire today.”

So, I took the Metro bus all over Seattle, looking for the likeliest source of the fire. I finally ended up near a very large forest-like area, the Arboretum in Seattle, down a way from where I lived. I got off the bus while it was approaching nightfall, and began walking downhill from my neighborhood, entering a new one I’d never seen before, in a mostly Black area of town. This place was full of small, run-down row houses, all of which could easily be tinderboxes that year; it was a hot, dry summer with no rain being predominant. And there was no fire department anywhere close to that neighborhood, too; only a recently built brand-new police department. I kept walking downhill, and off in the distance, I heard what sounded like a fire alarm wailing – like hellish jazz.

It couldn’t be a fire alarm, so I pondered what it meant. I thought I was probably crazy to be doing this and wondered who’d set off the alarm. But I kept walking downhill towards it, and finally the house with the alarm sounding off came into view. Back in 1986, there weren’t that many houses outfitted with burglar alarms in Seattle, so this was something new to me. While walking, I decided this wasn’t any of my business. It was obvious that someone had broken into the house, and that the alarm had scared them away.

My memory turned back to when I was 14 years old. I was reading Ralph Ellison’s “Invisible Man,” all about how a Black man was spurned by the entire white race, and there’d been a short passage concerning how Black people were murdering each other, Jack the Ripper style, doing terrible things – without the white police interfering with it the right way. At that moment, I swore that if I ever came across such an event, I would do my best to interfere with it, and to somehow end it. So, going back to 1986, I had two events I had requested for God to assist me with: stopping a large wildfire and assisting with ending a Ripper-style attack.

I went all the way down to the end of the street, though; I was scared, and thought it wasn’t any of my business by then, pretty much forgetting my earlier promises to God. I went up a cement stairway to exit the neighborhood; night suddenly fell, and the noise up at the top of the stairway increased until it was a Hellish roar, and from where it came, I couldn’t tell. I stopped halfway up, sitting on the cement steps and wondering what to do next. God or the Devil or something wasn’t into letting me out of that neighborhood!

So, I got up, thinking that I had enjoyed enough Christmases, and ran back up the hill all the way to the house with the alarm going off shrilly – continuously. As I walked up to the house, not knowing what else to do or how to handle this, I banged on the front door. But pivoting at a noise behind me, in the street lights I saw the house’s owner pulling into her driveway. She was Black, and she electronically opened the garage door and drove on in. I scrambled down her porch steps, banging on the garage door, to ask her about things.

She did not reply, going back into her house suddenly. I heard an inner door shut. It dawned on me that whoever had set off the alarm might still be around, waiting for her to come home. I climbed back up her house steps, sitting on the porch and thinking about what I could do. Surely this was the scene of the arson fire – it was an older Black lady, a row house alongside a lot of other tinderbox houses in the awful heat of a dry summer night, and I thought that an older lady like her would probably keep a gasoline can in her garage. It wouldn’t be that hard to break in, under cover of darkness and the loudly clanging alarm, and to “humiliate” and kill her while setting the house on fire!

The whole neighborhood would go up, including the Arboretum just down the street. I looked around, stood up on the porch, but didn’t see anything. A plan came to mind; I had some training in martial arts and could possibly take on whoever it was that was planning this attack. I got up, went over to the overhang above the Black lady’s garage, and hung from it like a bat, upside down. It was very dark by then and I wasn’t completely sure what I was doing, but I knew I had to lure the terrible people who had broken into the lady’s house out into the open, so that I could take them on or at least scare them off.

I hung like that for twenty minutes, looking down at the ground and gauging my chances; then I launched myself downward, after tucking my head down into my shoulders. I landed all right, rolling in a perfectly executed back flip down at the very end of the driveway. There they were! It was two young Black teenagers, standing there in awe of what I’d done, and holding a basketball. But it was nighttime, not time for any pickup games, and there were clearly no basketball hoops in any of the driveways around. Still, I knew I couldn’t take any chances on their not being the perpetrators; what if they were innocent, and I broke their necks or ruptured their stomachs by attaching them with my karate?

So instead, I loudly yelled at them, and they swiftly set off running. In the dark, as my teachers had taught me to see behind and all around me in my university martial arts classes, I could tell they were running back around the house, maybe to another house down the street. The Black lady suddenly popped her head out the window, asking me if I wanted her to call the police. I yelled, “Yes! Call the cops!” at her loudly, so that she and the boys could hear me – and she pulled her head inside and disappeared. I knew then that if the police discovered me, they would arrest me for the break-in, as they didn’t know about the two boys. I would have to find them somehow, holding them until the police came.

They were down the street somewhere. So, I walked down there, somewhat slowly, and found them sitting on a porch in front of a house. I was still very scared, but I confronted them, and apparently my karate wasn’t as good as I thought. They quickly surrounded me, pinned me down, and were about to do various unspeakable things to me involving using the screwdrivers they were both carrying. They apparently had used these to break into the house, as it turned out later – shades of Bernhard Goetz! But fortunately for me, two police cars appeared noisily out of the darkness. The cops grabbed each of the boys, pulling them off me and standing them against a nearby tall rock wall.

Mrs. C—–, as her name turned out to be a year later when I revisited that Black neighborhood, had called the cops just in time. I was safe, and relatively uninjured. But I discovered soon that I had a mild concussion from landing on the driveway previously, even though I had tucked my head in for the back flip. It felt like a throbbing pain, and it soon went away. But the police took me to a hospital, and like it has happened to Batman many a time, they thought I had done something illegal. This was although I’d found the real crooks for them, who otherwise would’ve entered Mrs. C—–’s house and done hideous things to her and the entire neighborhood.

Those boys were clearly waiting for her to come home. They turned out to be young, so I was glad that I hadn’t attacked them before, although I was somewhat injured myself. The police grilled me for hours, but I kept to my story of having only wandered onto the scene to be a “good neighbor.” I checked the county police records months later, and the two boys had gotten into subsequent trouble, although juvenile detention had released them after they committed their initial crime. During my interrogation, I found out it was them who had broken into Mrs. C—–‘s house, and one of them is still in the King County Jail system, last I checked.

Eventually the police let me go, after the hospital nurse sewed up the small wound on my head. I was fine but felt sad that I’d not gone ahead and used my karate skills when I had the chance to come from in front of the boys and surprise them. Well, that’s the real-life story of the night I became both Superman (fighting the probable arsonists, as it was an extremely dry, hot night and a likely house fire was involved) and Batman (saving Mrs. C—–, a nice Black lady in a tiny Black neighborhood, from Jack the Ripper once more having his way in the worst possible style with a woman).


Expect the unexpected. You will probably sit up and scream when you are really dying. I’m an ex-nurse; they all do that. If you already knew it, sorry. Doesn’t matter either way. Whether you did good, evil or as usual both. You men probably knew all along. We women probably find out. I think Death is the Great Equalizer. Life is L’Chaim, the Good Thing, that we should always cherish.

I plan to die sitting up. Then find out I’m asleep LOL!


The Jewish Social Worker Intake Man told me his own name, that of the social worker, and I have completely forgotten it. I have learning disabilities. It’s not a good idea to poison people to death, because they go on living anyway and reproduce anyway. Yes, I’m right. Forcing people into gay, or wheelchairs, doesn’t work the way people intended. Neither did N—-m, the N word to end all N-words (??? !!!) Meds work sometimes, making things harder to talk about.

Shakespeare said it – family matters. Relatives of deceased persons are not happy. But by golly there is such a thing as CLOSURE. Justine Mbabazi wrote a book called This is Your Time Rwanda. About forgiving the deaths of over one million Tutsis or Hutus. China said it was overpopulated. Means Western Europe and Central and Eastern Europe too, I would think. FINI for now, Al the Italian. Roman Empire did it, you’re right. But in the end, using anti-Semitism to bait anti-Semitism…the world can only hope it works out for Israel and the rest of us. Keep on truckin’!