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Ex-P.M. of Pakistan on my JFK statements

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  • T. Casey Brennan
    This is a JFK story I wrote in 1998, which merited a personal insult from the since-overthrown Prime Minister of Pakistan. It is posted at:
    Message 1 of 1 , Sep 18, 2004
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      This is a JFK story I wrote in 1998, which merited a
      personal insult from the since-overthrown Prime
      Minister of Pakistan. It is posted at:

      http://tcasey.inri.net/conjurella_ddt.html

      By way of further intro, I am T. Casey Brennan, 1970s
      comic book writer, published notably in the Warren
      comics, CREEPY, EERIE and VAMPIRELLA, but also in such
      places as Archie's Red Circle Sorcery, see...

      http://www.mightycrusaders.net/redcircleindex.htm


      ...Ufologist Daniel Fry's UNDERSTANDING magazine
      see...

      http://danielfry.com/?986

      ...and the Crowleyan EQUINOX magazine -- see...

      http://members.ozemail.com.au/~realoto/eqv3c.html

      -- the version published by Marcella Motta. I am
      currently homeless, and am in the process of
      chronicling my adventures with the Hare Krishna
      people, note the pages at...

      http://www.geocities.com/tcb_sr

      http://surrealist.org/people/tcaseybrennan.html

      Conjurella DDT:
      Cold War Warriors
      Comic Book Truth
      by T. Casey Brennan

      --------------------------------------------------------------------------------

      "Kepp on dreaming I sont become psycho case please."

      -- Muhammad Nawaz Sharif, Prime Minister of Pakistan
      who replaced Benazir Bhutto, on reading the notes for
      Conjurella DDT, complete with his original spelling,
      in an e-mail from Pakistan to T. Casey Brennan, on
      January 3, 1998.

      --------------------------------------------------------------------------------

      This is the story of the assassins. This is the story
      of the cold war soldiers of AIDS. This is the story of
      Conjurella DDT. This is the story of hope.

      I said in Conjurella that I started school in
      September of 1953. But I may have been a little late
      that month. I know I was in the Yale, Michigan
      hospital with asthma in September before either my
      first of second year in school, I think both.

      Mama and Daddy loved DDT. But Daddy hated farming. It
      was sometime around then that we got rid of all the
      cattle on our eighty acres of farmland in Emmett or
      Avoca, we weren't sure which, because it was just out
      in the country, and they'd change the postal address
      on us.

      But it was sometime around then, I think, before I
      started school, that Mama and Daddy got into DDT. I
      mean, really into it.

      I was born on August 11, 1948, in a hospital in Port
      Huron, Michigan. The doctor that delivered me was Dr.
      Pollack, you know, like former Michigan State Senator
      Lana Pollack. Later on, Mama and Daddy took me to the
      railroad bridge in Beard's Hills on M-136, past Avoca,
      going toward the highway that leads to Port Hope. That
      was where Dr. Pollack tried to jump off, and kill
      himself. He knew about MK-ULTRA. Mama said he said:

      "Oh, God, to bring a baby into the world to suffer so.
      Oh God, to bring a baby into the world to do that."

      And then he jumped. But he only broke both his legs.
      He was never the same after that, they said.

      After I wrote Conjurella, I remembered more about the
      Old Covered Bridge meeting with David Ferrie.

      After David Ferrie scared us, after they raped Aunt
      Bonnie (I only made up the name Conjurella to call
      her; she never called herself that), her daughter
      Linda (I only made up the name Glinda to call her in
      Conjurella, to make it like a fairy tale, a Ferrie
      tale), says:

      "They're going to make us shoot John Kennedy."

      That was how long they were after him.

      And she did. I saw her.

      After the voices, after they lifted me up, after I
      initiated the firing that killed the President, they
      led me groggily into the hall. And I saw that fleeting
      glimpse of Linda once again.

      David Ferrie had braced the rifle to the window. I
      know that, because I threw myself to the floor after
      firing the first shot. With the heel of my hand, I
      tried to push the rifle out the window. I was willing
      to die for her; I was willing to die for my secret
      friend.

      But this is the story of Conjurella DDT. This is the
      story of the cold war soldiers.

      Sometime in the early 1950s, Daddy got the idea that
      the pine trees on our eighty acres had to live. He got
      big cannisters of DDT, wirh sprayers on them. And then
      he took me and Mama back to the woods with them.

      I'm not sure David Ferrie wasn't involved. He said
      tell all this if they killed him. I am.

      I'm not sure how old David Ferrie was. I don't look in
      any books before I write the Conjurella stuff; maybe
      after, but never before. But I think he was an
      assassin in World War II, maybe a child assassin, for
      the O.S.S. I think I remember Aunt Bonnie saying
      something about them, but I don't know any more.

      Anyway, Daddy was worried about the pine trees dying
      from these worms that got on them every year. There
      were little worms on the pines, that lived in big
      silken tents that looked like spider webs. Mama and
      Daddy made me go back with them, with the DDT. I don't
      know how many trips I took with them like that. My
      eyes burned and wept blood, I wheezed and gasped, my
      head was light, and all my skin hurt.

      Finally, I said: "Mama and Daddy, I can't stand any
      more DDT. I can't go back to spray trees with DDT any
      more."

      And they didn't make me again. But that wasn't my last
      exposure to DDT.

      "My cancer observations, too, may be 'out of
      reckoning', but they have brought me safely through a
      dark, uncharted water, where more than once my craft
      has 'grazed the edge of foreign shores'."

      -- Edna Kaehele, founder of the anti-cancer group,
      Fear Fighters, in Living with Cancer, Doubleday &
      Company, Inc., 1952

      "The hardiest individualist I know...is Casey Brennan,
      a three-year old friend from Avoca, Michigan."

      -- Edna Kaehele, Training the Family Dog (Chapter
      Seven), Lantern Press, 1953.

      "The O.S.S. was so bad, we should have fought with the
      Nazis just to stop them. And I'm a Jew."

      -- Conjurella

      In 1953, after Linda told me what we'd have to do, I
      said, "Who is John Kennedy?"

      Little girls are always smarter than little boys. She
      said: "A Senator."

      I asked "What's a Senator?"

      I don't remember whether she explained or not.
      MK-ULTRA, David Ferrie, and Dr. E could always make
      you forget, no matter what; could always make you
      trust them again, no matter what. So in 1958, we
      trusted the CIA, Mama and Daddy and me, and my ersatz
      aunt.

      It must have been 1958.

      It was the summer in between grades during my four
      years at Our Lady of Mt. Carmel School in Emmett,
      Michigan. It MAY have been 1957, but I think it was
      1958, when David Ferrie flew us to Indonesia and
      Prince Sihanouk tried to prevent the Kennedy
      assassination.

      Edna Kaehele was "Pat" to her friends, and "Aunt
      Patty" to me. I don't know why she called herself Pat.
      She had two sons, Jerry and Dean, one of them, I think
      Jerry, went on to become an oficial of the John Birch
      Society, and a daughter called "Butch". She lived in
      Columbus, Ohio, like my late mother, paperback author
      Alice Brennan, nee Mildred Alice Goodrich. They were
      both writers, they were both friends, and she was one
      of the people who got me involved with David Ferrie.

      It must have been 1958.

      Aunt Patty said, "Casey has a great future with the
      CIA." And we all went to Indonesia. I don't remember
      if Mama was there or not; I think Daddy was. I
      remember Aunt Patty saying: "When you're in Indonesia,
      it's just like being in the United States."

      But it wasn't.

      All I remember is the hotel in Indonesia. I don't
      remember the flight. I just remember the hotel. I must
      have been ten. I'm trying to remember; I'm trying to
      place it. Maybe I was nine. When I was nine, I went on
      The Five & Ten Show, on UHF, in Columbus. I went on
      with my cousins, Uncle Charley's kids, Uncle Charley
      was a Shriner, and he recorded on this old record
      player; there was a special record you could put on
      that would record stuff.

      I wanted to go on The Five & Ten Show, but I did not
      want to shoot John Kennedy, and neither did Linda.

      The first Dallas police interrogation of Lee, it was
      destroyed, my Dad told me. Lee told them about "child
      molesters trying to take over the world". No one will
      ever know; it was me, I initiated the firing, Lee was
      innocent, my shot killed him, there was no need for
      David Ferrie to continue shooting, no need for Linda
      with sugar cubes in her muffs to shoot at all, but she
      did.

      On The Five & Ten Show, they played "Turkey in the
      Straw"; there was a little dance that went with it and
      I couldn't do it!!! I could damned well shoot John
      Kennedy for them, but I could not do that Dance!!! It
      had something to do with, jump down, turn around, pick
      a bale of hay: my cousins, who had not been injected
      with anything at all by David Ferrie, could do it just
      fine...

      I was still on stage, trying to do this crap, after my
      cousins had marched off. After the music had stopped,
      I was still on stage, twirling around all wrong for
      the fade-out.

      But I did shoot John Kennedy for them. And Uncle
      Charley and the Shriners, I'm supposed to say, were
      not involved, but Uncle Johnny and the Finders, they
      were in it up to their necks.

      But the hotel.

      First I remember, just running around the hotel in
      Indonesia, like a kid, which I was. And I remember
      Aunt Patty saying Indonesia is just like America,
      everything is in English, and that I've got a great
      future with the CIA. But then...

      Prince Sihanouk of Cambodia enters.

      There is a table of Asians in the restaurant.

      One says "That is Sihanouk!"

      They exchange glances.

      One says: "I will offer obeisances."

      He prostrates himself on the floor before Sihanouk.

      Another says: "I will not offer obeisances to
      Sihanouk."

      But Sihanouk comes every day at noon. He has a little
      office in the restaurant, and he says it is about
      "international trade".

      We get used to seeing him every day; it's just
      Sihanouk.

      But he wants to talk to me. I'm afraid, not OF him,
      but for him.

      He takes me in his office and says, "I can get you out
      of this, you know."

      I'm ten. Or nine.

      Sihanouk is young in 1958. He has a moustache, his
      complexion is dark, his voice is sincere, and he says:


      "I can get you and the other children to safety."

      I laugh at the Prince.

      Even at ten (or nine), I do not want more innocent
      blood of those who try to help me.

      Even at ten (or nine) I say:

      "You're crazy. You'd never get us out of hrere alive."


      (Interlude: David Ferrie and Benazir Bhutto. Sometime
      in the 1950s, David Ferrie took me to meet the
      kidnapped Benazir Bhutto, daughter of Zhulfikar Ali
      Bhutto, and the future Prime Minister of the Pure
      State, Pakistan. Yaya Khan knew that she had been
      kidnapped and used in mind-control experiments by CIA
      MK-ULTRA, and used that knowledge to solicit unlimited
      aid from the U.S. Zhulfikar knew also, and would have
      told her before his execution by CIA puppet and
      assassination victim-to-be, Zia, but she was refused
      audience with her doomed father by Zia. She murdered
      her brother and her mother's best friend, as Prime
      Minister of the Pure State: this is why...

      David Ferrie calls her a "little whore". She isn't.
      David Ferrie is weird and thinks any little girl is a
      "little whore."

      Benazir Bhutto is tied up in a chair; we may be in Dr.
      E's office in Port Hope, Michigan; I called it
      "Hopeville" in Conjurella. David Ferrie and another
      man, maybe Dr. E are working on her. They tell her,
      "We're going to make you kill your whole goddamned
      family, you little whore!"

      After all this, David Ferrie says, "Would you like to
      take her out in a field and play with her, the way you
      do with Kay?"

      I say: "I'm scared."

      David Ferrie pretends to look confused.

      I say: "You just told her you're going to kill her
      family."

      David Ferrie laughs.

      "She won't remember any of that, Casey! Wait and see!"


      And when I wake up, I'm in a field with Benazir. She
      is smiling coyly, and she doesn't remember. We run
      around and play and at the end, she gets too far away,
      and I start calling, "Benazir, Benazir!" But she is
      too far away, and then I'm asleep again. When I wake
      up,, there is a woman with David Ferrie saying:
      "Benazir!? What kind of name is that? There's no one
      in Avoca with a name like Benazir! What kind of name
      is that?!"

      They think I won't remember. They think I won't care
      about her. But I do. That was the interlude. This is
      Indonesia:)

      In Indonesia, Prince Sihanouk says: "Yes, I can get
      you out."

      But he can't. There are catacombs under the hotel
      where the CIA can take people and hold them prisoner
      or kill them.

      I don't know whether or not Sihanouk knows about the
      disease, the disease they are making to attack Africa.
      But he knows about the children. Later, the CIA tells
      me that the whole Vietnam war was started because of
      Sihanouk.

      Later, much later, it must have been the 1970s, they
      could still haul me in even then, and keep me for
      days, I was exposed to DDT again. I think. David
      Ferrie is dead now. I think. But now Dr. E's people
      are all around me, and they're all taking little
      yellow capsules. They tell me they are taking
      Experimental DDT.

      I say: "It's bad to be exposed to DDT."

      Dr. E's people say: "But now they're saying you should
      take it, just like a vitamin."

      And they make me take the little yellow capsules of
      Experimental DDT, every day, for, I think, five days.

      And that was the story of Conjurella DDT.

      This is the story of how they taught Linda to kill:

      In the 1950s, an old lady named Mamaganda lived
      upstairs from Uncle Johnny. She must have found out
      too much, because Uncle Johnny and Dr. E had decided
      to kill her.

      But first they had to move her, so no one would know.
      I know I had only seen Dr. E once or twice before when
      it happened, so it must have been the summer of 1959.
      Mamaganda is moved from Uncle Johnny's to Uncle
      Blood's house, also in Columbus, again to be an
      upstairs tenant. She will not stay long.

      Mama and Daddy take me to Uncle Blood's. They take me
      to a room, and open the door, and there is Dr. E, with
      a roomful of children.

      Mama says: "Here's Dr. E. You know this is Columbus,
      not Port Hope, so you know he can't be real."

      Linda is one of the children. They all have knives and
      glazed, drugged expressions.

      Dr. E says: "Put the sticks into Mamaganda. Be sure
      you see the blood. She wants to see the blood. She
      will like the blood."

      Then the children all go upstairs to see Mamaganda.

      The End




      Top ten sites in French, Czech, and Portuguese
      reviewing works of T. Casey Brennan. You'll have to
      scroll down (or use CTRL + F for "Find") to get to my
      name...most sites merely index foreign translations of
      my work...

      http://www.nlc-bnc.ca/superheros/t3-304-f.html

      http://www.ifrance.com/kamandi/inattendu/inatt07.htm

      http://www.ifrance.com/kamandi/minuit/minuit5.htm

      http://perso.wanadoo.fr/didier.godefroy/jeunestit1a9.htm

      http://www.yfolire.net/bd/liste.php?rech4=2124&zone4=aut

      http://archivesbidard.free.fr/catalogue_thematique/vampires.htm

      http://members.tripod.com/hqcia/kripta.htm

      http://www.contosevampiros.hpg.ig.com.br/vampirella.htm

      http://cybertempli.mysteria.cz/TCBrennanbestie.htm

      http://perso.club-internet.fr/othierry/scvam.html

      Celebrity Homeless List including my name:

      http://www.angelfire.com/stars4/lists/homeless.html

      The JFK Connection:

      This is a Canadian JFK page with the trenchcoat photo
      cropped:

      http://www.angelfire.com/me/carcano

      This is from The Konformist magazine; scroll down to
      get the trenchcoat photo cropped & with caption:
      "sexiest JFK MK-ULTRA assassin alive":

      http://www.konformist.com/mkkafe/tcasey/tcasey.htm

      This is from a professor at the University of Rhode
      Island; no photo:

      http://karws.gso.uri.edu/JFK/Conspiracy_theories/Brennan--Conjurella/Brennan.html

      This is the NEW TCB fan page, with Clinton document,
      but no photo:

      http://pw1.netcom.com/~mthorn/0brennan.htm







































      =====
      http://www.wikipedia.infostar.cz/d/da/dave_sim.html
      http://www.noi-animali.org/veg/risorse
      http://www.davestevens.com/html/ds_harri2.html
      http://surrealist.org/links/devotees.html http://www.spookyfanzine.com
      http://www.geocities.com/satanicreds/tcb-int.htm
      http://www.thegreatminds.com/anthol.html
      http://www.muuta.net/Flo/WarrenFlo/GoldenSunDiskFLO.html
      http://www.muuta.net/Flo/WarrenFlo/AstrologyFLO.html
      http://www.konformist.com/jfkland/jfkland.htm




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