The H-bomb

I awoke and found myself physically in Memphis Tn., last week while on my way to Itta Bena, Ms. driving Matt Jr. back to school, and found the time for a visit to the National Civil Rights Museum at the Lorraine Motel where Dr. Martin Luther King was assassinated by a sniper with an expensive deer hunting rifle, from ambush, April 4, 1968. One James Earl Ray was eventually captured, proceeded to confess to, and was was eventually convicted of this crime. In a total sign of the times, he later predictably retracted his confession, but nothing could seemingly ever topple him from the true Pantheon of sixties lone nuts, the others being Lee Harvey Oswald and Sirhan B. Sirhan.

The museum itself is a beautiful, orderly, and dignified passage along America's low road to an historical explanation of how an evolving just society was shot out from under us from the right, and the shocking realization at the end of the tour, that only one man had conceived and masterminded all of these crimes, and then had successfully maintained, in each case, a perfect control of the cover-ups that followed, even after his death. Amazing!

The exact spot where Dr. King fell was marked with an huge wreath and the balcony can be viewed from behind exposing the partially opened bathroom window in the rear of the boarding house across the street, up and to the right. Part two of the museum continues in that very seedy boarding house where you can see the supposed shooter's perch itself. Supposed? Arrah...three more famous crimes where the truth has somehow become officially unknowable. Talk about your science not proving anything! How can this be?

I was in the fourth grade at St. Lucy's School in Long Beach, Ca. when JFK was shot, all of nine years old. I watched Jack Ruby shoot Oswald down on live T.V. from my living room floor. I had no idea at the time that this second assassination in Dallas would prevent there ever being a trial in the first, and the facts of the assassination would never be made public. Doubts were left to fester for years as every attempt to ascertain the facts of the murder were somehow effectively blunted,or shouted down. Who had that sort of bureaucratic reach?

Where upon, there upon, the Warren Commission's investigation was an unhistorical travesty, it's report a shambles, as full of holes as a Swiss cheese, but by the election of 1964 the nix pix, and flick fix had set in thoroughly and the levees were holding and would hold and as late as 2006, a neo-conspud like Gerald Posner would array the vacuum force needed to feed the mealy mouthers with 'Case Closed' (fer sure, dude). Watch this:



Huh? Did you know that this incident was never reported to the Warren Commission? None of the agents involved were even interviewed and their own eyewitness reports to the SS brass hats are full of an equal measure of outright lies about the President's trip through Dealy Plaza and some interesting observations they made there.

Nowadays all the angles lead to Lyndon Johnson. The film you just saw shows that certain members of the Secret Service had roles to play. The CIA was seemly set-up to take the fall. James Jesus Angelton's SIG Group, was responsible for the Oswald mission to thwart the assassination, staying put in the lunchroom, thinking the plot had been foiled. But he was a fool, the real conspiracy continued on, a covert operation far above his poor power to add or detract from, in fact, they were still able to fit Ozzy neatly into the patsy's suit. The Agency was trapped, they couldn't admit Oswald worked for them, so they lied to the various investigations.

Johnson was responsible for most for the show in Dallas but was in no position to be calling the shots in a conspiracy so widespread, well planned and executed. Johnson was utterly compromised by the oncoming Bobby Baker and Billy Sol Estes scandals, he would be unable to hold office by reason of these compromises, but he had the backing of the only civilian with any and all real power in Washington D.C. in those day and it was immense, the soon to appointed "Director for Life" of the FBI (an unthinkable title in a democracy, reminiscent of some power mad third-world Generalissimo), by Johnson himself, upon whom, John Edgar Hoover, had the goods.

Cauchy's limit, convergent sequences

A null sequence is a sequence which converges with zero. Zero in this case representing the absolute number of eyewitnesses to the Elizabeth Short murder and Elizabeth herself, who had been "zeroed" out by the killer in the "belonging's letter".

The rescue bearings of the body lie at (N34.0150/w18.3332) at the exact center of a directed set with zero as it's limit. Five is the dump site plus Clement Jct., Forest Lawn, Santa Monica Municipal Airport, and Hawthorne airport to the South. Lacking any vectoring, the choice to begin on the Cardinal compass direction is mine, an intuitive one, as is the selection of 90° as the starting vector.

Four is 5-1,. East, North, West, South. Notice it's counter-clockwise. Three is then this sequence, the inner ring of landmarks: Los Angeles Memorial Park North, Hollywood Park South, and Exposition Park to the East. West is gone, there is just no discernible landmark at the properly unmarked position. It's in Culver City somewhere on the vast old MGM back lot. Noteworthy only in it's absence.

Two is the sequence from North, Forest Lawn Hollywood Hills Park to the Santa Monica Airport's bearing South and West. This direction ordered by the obvious exclusion of the fourth point on the inner ring. Repeating north is ordered by the broken sequence N-SE at point three.

One, then simply extends the line segment 1-2 until you reach the foot of Breeze Ave in Venice which is not coincidentally, the location of the suicide note. This is the extreme limit of the sequence, which is then re-directed back to the northeast and is rejoined at zero, the vacant lot. The line segment 1-0 is then extended further Northeast where it predictably ends at the Hirsh Apt's at 300 E. Washington Blvd. Los Angeles, Ca.

Who Killed Elizabeth Short?

Arrah, barring anymore earthquakes, we may have blundered into something like an hypothesis, and just in the nick of time, too. When the Big One strikes, if it strikes L.A., will probably liquefy most of the deeper LA Basin and send it sliding into Santa Monica Bay, at which point the only viable clue to the real killer will be gone forever. If you want the truth, time is your enemy.

I always felt real sorry for those kids who had to go on television and try to convict OJ Simpson of the murder of his wife and her friend. Why? Because there were no witnesses to the crime. the bedrock principle being that sworn testimony trumps all, and the ultra-reality is that the observational powers in humans are flawed instruments at best, as are many of our public institutions, though most people tell the absolute truth under oath and know what they saw and didn't see.

A very, very tough case, that one. And made even tougher by the utterly inexcusable actions of the LAPD detectives in the case, the fallout of the Rodney King incident, the 1991 Civil Disturbance and their Chief Daryl Gates, brother of the current Bush administrations National Security Director, Bob Gates. Bush Sr. was the President when all that went down, but I digress.

The murderer of Elizabeth Short was never caught and so never brought to trial, so his lawyers could make an hash of the investigation like that. Maybe. Even three generations later, the cops still openly brood over the case, as if they know something we don't. The LAPD still openly solicit outside help in the case, but then tend to write off any and all Black Dahlia tipsters as attention seeking nutjobs. Pitiful, really, still, we can't help where we were born.

After having spent the better part of two years conducting my own investigation, I have formulated an hypothesis, as to who murdered her, the result of abjective reasoning based on the best surviving contemporary evidence along with supporting data based on a new and unique Google survey map of the sacred setting on Norton which lays out the entire crime within a set of converging sequences which point to someone named Edwin F. Burns, who was photographed with Elizabeth Short, the photograph was identified by the Johnsons, killed and bisected her in the Hirsh Apts. and then committed suicide. Call it the Ed Burns Hypothesis.

Betty's birthday quake

And just when I thought I'd seen everything. An earthquake! Arrah, could this case possibly get any screwier? The Black Dahlia II, perhaps?

I admit I was waiting for something to happen, just as it had last year, where the answer to Ed's riddle suddenly became so clear to me, seemingly from without. I believe in inspiration, and I follow it. I hadn't seen any spooks until two weeks ago when my map hits threatened to reach fifteen thousand hits on or about her birthdate, which would have been a disasterous coincidence. It didn't, but then the quake rattled all the rat's cages as well as the rats within.

Last week while doing some research on prisms, I run across some of Bateson's exquisite epigrams from the last century; "The map is not the territory", and more particularly his notions of the five part symmetries familiar in all living things, but ripped in twain, along her lateral axis demonstrating skills for which the murderer had sliced her open, and displayed in the ratio of 3/2. Creating two lifeless objects with prismatic openings where he broke apart what was left of her neatly in half, and positioned them aforeslash.

Betty Bersinger thought it was a mannequin at first. But, it was sure to draw your attention too because what she saw was decidedly different, and humans react to difference. It's the basis of true perception. Just like lab frogs thrown in boiling water. The greater the difference, the further we hop. To deny that there is something very decidedly different that rule on an outre fate will emend us to be King Canute's, stopping the tides themselves.

But not the earthquakes. While these events are unpredictable, they can be terrorizing. Though I was harder on L.A. than the temblor in my Black Dahlia birthday blog, but kept it short, also like the magnitude 5.4 quake which was located in the Chino Hills area, and ranged out at nearly lunchtime. The epicenter given as N33.96/W117.53. About 33 miles west/southwest of the January 15, 1947 dump site north of Leimert Park area of Los Angeles.

West of Eden

In the Deserts of the West, still today, there are Tattered Ruins of the Map, inhabited by Animals and Beggars; and in all the Land there is no other Relic of the Disciplines of Geography. --Jorge Luis Borges

"Greed is good", as they used to say, back in the nineteen-eighties talkies. In academia, Gregory Bateson and the epigrammatic empire strike back. "Science proves nothing", they screamed, "It's only a movie." What was basically a reworking of Aristotelian epistemology, was somehow transformed into the new corporate protestant nihilism. St. Billy Madison. The message had become the medium, or more particuarly, the messenger.

Celluloid and semiotics in a self-righting semantic system called Reaganism. The marriage of the Hollywood dream factory and the Federal plantation merged into a sublime and secret concubinage. Death and taxes. The Richter scale reading is not the earthquake. Sure, why not? "It felt more like 5.7".

What Bateson, Bourges and the rest are most concerned with is the progress of their professional careers and temporal gain. As scientists they're likely to say just about anything, their own heightened perceptions yield. Proof, then is something outside of laboratory conditions. A legal fiction. No overweaning scientific "standard of proof" even exists. Doubt, must play its role.

Science only demands that your test results be reproducible by your competitive "peers" and there's the tricky anachronism and the rub. Methodical and institutional madness and the professional jealousy within it. Striving always towards the latent and corrupt potential in us all. Reasonability and conscience demand another route to fulfillment. Power is it's own reward, innovation dangerous, humble effort is ultimately futile.

What they famously discovered however, was that it didn't matter, the stuff of scientific advancement is so laboriously, stubbornly incremental that it has a very short half-life, anyhow, and that at current rates of change, it'll all be bupkis in a matter of a few years, and palpably witchcraft in a mere generation or less. So there! Posterity? The system exists to manipulate history in order to wait until the movie comes out. Lies, lied and moralized. Oh...that schlock is sooo good, baby. True crime? No, that's just entertainment. Fade to Black.