Grandkids, I want you to think hard about something I just explained to you about my life in the last chapter.
When we moved our converted school bus to the home of Rick and Joy Church, we had lots of room, free rent, garden space, and incredible neighbors (Rick and Joy). Paula had just driven a large nail in the coffin of her ability to have a strong role in Brittany and Joshua’s life because of what she had done with my dad the previous year in Snohomish—the legal system in Washington wouldn’t have looked too kindly on this malicious act, when she was the one who had given up full custody of the kids in the first place.
Jackie couldn’t have loved and supported me more. She had never considered leaving me or going back to church. Our kids, Brandon and Caleb, were secure with us.
In Kent, Washington, I had the life for which I was searching and hoping in order to raise my children how I knew was the right way in order to help them get the most out of their mortal existence.
Now, keep in mind, I knew what mortal existence was all about, while everyone else around me didn’t have a clue.
While others were stressed out worrying about money, success, and everything that the world perceives as good, it wasn’t good according to what I knew about the purpose of mortal life.
However … and this “however” is important … I knew that how other people’s mortal experiences were playing out, in their True Self’s brain as an advanced dream, although not for me, were completely right for them.
With my new enlightenment, I couldn’t have cared less what other people were doing and how they were living their life, as long as what they did in their life didn’t affect or impede my ability to do what I wanted. Conversely, I always tried to live my life in a way that didn’t affect or impede theirs.
To me, the world was a good, righteous place where the dream of mortal life was proceeding according to its purpose.
I had no idea the world was all evil … Sodom and Gomorrah.
The perfect, empirical example of this was how I got along with others, especially with Dan and Judy Bartelheimer and Rick and Joy Church.
Like the Bartelheimers of Snohomish, Washington, the Churches of Kent, Washington, were incredibly wonderful human beings, although very different than me in their personal beliefs. The Bartelheimers were staunch Christians, but couldn’t have cared less about the Book of Mormon, and from personally witnessing what my LDS/Mormon dad (future Bishop) tried to do to me, they wanted nothing to do with such a religion. Neither did the Churches care about the Book of Mormon, or any religion for that matter.
The Bartelheimers and the Churches couldn’t have cared less how Jackie and I dressed our children, whether or not we homeschooled our children, what we ate, or anything else that we did while living on their property. What they did know was that I was a very hard worker who never took advantage of another; that I was a very kind, considerate, and wonderful person who appeared to love his wife and his children and always act in my family’s best interests, regardless of whether what I chose to do in my family’s best interest didn’t jive with what they did for theirs.
I can promise you that if the Bartelheimers or the Churches had witnessed anything about my personality or the way that I chose to raise a family that was bad, abusive, or in any way not positive or that could have been harmful to children, they would have kicked us off their property … or at the very least, turned us in to the authorities.
I believe that the Bartelheimers and the Churches saw in Jackie and my little family, an incredibly close family. They saw me come home from work, and the kids, led by Brittany, run to greet their father. They saw the smiles. They heard the laughter. Not once, not once, not once, did they ever see anything but positive emotions and expressions on my, Jackie’s, Brittany’s, Joshua’s, Brandon’s, or little Caleb’s face … NOT ONCE!
Living with the Bartelheimers and the Churches, on their property, for free, was the perfect example of how human beings can get along, if each respects the free will of the other. The Dan and Judy Bartelheimer family, the Rick and Joy Church family, and the Christopher Nemelka family couldn’t have lived and held philosophical beliefs that were more different. Yet, there was a mutual respect, a genuine love, a sincere appreciation and support of each our individual free will to live mortal life how each of us desired.
There was no way this type of world was a Sodom and Gomorrah … no fucking way!
I can truly say that the short time that I knew Dan and Judy Bartelheimer, who were very staunch Christians, and Rick and Joy Church, who weren’t religious at all, caused me to believe, wholeheartedly, that the human race was good; that people are good and humane at their core; that the mortal experiences that each of us chooses for ourselves … are good for each of us individually.
I can report that along with the Olexen family of Argentina, the Bartelheimers and the Churches were among the most humane, kindest, most compassionate, and wonderful families I had ever had the privilege of knowing.
Truly, I believed at this time because of empirical evidence, that the mortal family unit was a very good thing. The Nemelka family (led by my father) and his evil actions didn’t sway me, at that time, to think anything but that the family unit was good for humanity, although the LDS/Mormon religion fucked up people’s minds to justify them doing evil things. If only my father had not been an LDS/Mormon. He would have been a lot like Dan Bartelheimer. But even so, Dan was a staunch Christian who lived his religious beliefs about Jesus. My dad … not so much.
If I had not met four other mortals (Holy men according to the story of Sodom and Gomorrah), whom at the time (April of 1991) appeared to me to be about my same age, I would have continued to live my life with the belief that humanity was good and worth saving.
I have never been a person who would harm another in the least. I have never had the thought of physically harming another person … let alone creating a new sun through fusion, at a place called Adam-ondi-Ahman, that would completely destroy, not only the entire human race upon Earth, but the ability of OUR GROUP of advanced humans to be able to participate in the mortal dream experience again.
I didn’t even know what the fuck “Adam-ondi-Ahman” meant until my mentors explained that it was a phrase that Joseph Smith often used that meant (in a language from another dispensation of time): the posterity of Adam is fucked.
Yep, Joseph Smith had a potty mouth just like Grandpa’s … but he never wrote profanity words like your fucking grandfather loves to do … But anyways.
I am seen by the locals, maybe as a foreigner, but one of the kindest, compassionate, most considerate and giving men they know.
The locals have no idea that I am the one known in the Marvelous Work and a Wonder® as a True Messenger. They have no idea that I am the Spokesperson for The Humanity Party®. They have no idea what my religious or political viewpoints are. Luckily I don’t speak their native language too well, so I couldn’t explain who I am if I tried.
But I will never try. I will live the rest of my life incognito and unrecognized. I will fulfill my role and then let the “Holy men” do whatever they must do to Sodom and Gomorrah, which again, at the time, I thought had a lot of righteous people in it.
The last picture I have ever allowed to be taken of me, or will ever allow to be taken of me, was when I recently (at the time of this writing in March of 2019) traveled back to the United States to Orem, Utah, for a short time to see how my mother was doing. (I shared one of these pictures in a previous chapter.)
I will not allow anyone else to take my picture again. It was my intent to have a picture taken with the first mortal with whom my infant mortal body came into contact on December 2, 1961 … and it will probably be the last I take with her, or will possibly be the last time that I see my mother again.
As of this writing, I no longer have any normal mortal relationships. I am no longer associated with any of my family, with any of my kids, with anyone who has had any type of mortal life experience with Christopher Nemelka. Why? Because I cannot trust them … because the family unit, the friendships, all the relationships that we develop and have during our mortal experience in this fallen type of a world, are not good.
“What about people like the Olexens, the Bartelheimers, and the Churches? There has got to be a lot of other people on Earth like them, who are just as good! Right?”
Had I not met my mentors, nor made amends and cooperated with Paula and Carl Ladenburg so that they could start visiting Brittany and Joshua, … had I stayed put in the Church’s backyard in that school bus … I would have continued to believe that the world was good, that families and relationships are good … that there are good mortals … and most importantly, that the mortal experience taking place upon this Earth actually does what it was meant to do: provide a place where an eternal, advanced human’s brain could experience the involuntary, physically perfunctory (carried out with a minimum of effort or thought) emotional processes needed to keep one’s eternal brain balanced and happy: the dream of mortal life.
Had I not met these mortal immortals, had they not provided me with empirical evidence of their existence (who they are and why they exist), had I not experienced their incredible knowledge and intelligence (the application of knowledge) had I not learned the details about the five other time periods in the history of the Earth when the human race developed and destroyed itself. Any question that I had about who we are and why we exist was answered by them. They taught me the perfect plan to eliminate poverty in our current world … without impeding or affecting anyone’s free will … had they not been explained how the current United States Congress could (in a fucking week) eliminate the need for children to prostitute themselves for sex in order to survive …
… had they not entered my life when they did …
I would still be with Jackie, and Brittany, Joshua, Brandon, and Caleb (Sariah and Ryan—Jackie’s and my eventual other children). They would have been given the emotional foundation that would have allowed them to live the rest of their lives without the emotional strain of competing and becoming successful in this world, without the need to earn lots of money, buy lots of things, or be seen, recognized and valued by the world.
(And yep, those of you, my grandchildren, who are from Riley, Rachael, or Nathan … you wouldn’t exist!)
I wouldn’t have claimed to be a True Messenger. I wouldn’t have destroyed my value in this world by being seen as bonkers, as a deceiver, as a manipulator … as one whom “Three Holy Men” came to and told that they were going to destroy the world because it had become like Sodom and Gomorrah. Yeah! Really!
Throughout my entire life I would have been seen how the Olexens, the Bartelheimers, and the Churches saw me: a very kind, considerate, wonderful person who appeared to love his wife and his children and act in his family’s best interests, regardless of whether what he chose to do in his family’s best interest didn’t jive with what they did for their families.
I wouldn’t be living alone in a “cavity of a rock” or in a foreign country.
I would be enjoying my children, my grandchildren, even the Nemelka family parties and reunions, where I would always be known and seen by my young nieces and nephews as a loving, maybe a little eccentric, but funny as fuck … Uncle Chris.
It is my role. It is my duty. It is my calling to tell the world, and everyone in it, including my parents, my siblings and their children, including all of my ex-wives and my friends … even the Olexens, Bartelheimers, and Churches … that they are actually doing evil things, and that the world that they live in isn’t worth saving … because it’s a fucking Sodom and Gomorrah!
Yeah. Fucking Really! Sigh … fucking Sigh … fucking Sigh!
How could it be that a “very kind, considerate, wonderful person who appeared to love his wife and his children and act in his family’s best interests, regardless of whether what he chose to do in his family’s best interest didn’t jive with what others did” be someone who is now telling the world that it is fucked up and evil?
How could it be that I could act diametrically opposed to my true humanity type, to my true mortal nature, to my sense of humor, to my sense of compassion, to my sense of peace and willingness to love and get along with all people equally?
What convinced me that this world and the people in it are not worth saving?
The answer: PERSONAL EXPERIENCE.
Throughout the pages of this autobiography I will be giving the details of what happened as I was involved in the lives of people who the world sees as good people. I will let you be the judge as I explain what they did with their free will. Giving the details isn’t going to necessarily convince you that what they did was evil. Maybe what they did was actually good. You will have your own choice to make about what they did and why they did it. I will only report what happened.
My parents, both father, step-mother, and mother, who should have loved me, who should have supported me, and should have always acted in a way that was in their son’s (not their) best interests, did bad things to me.
I have already presented details about what my father did to me. But the worst is yet to be explained. I have provided details about how my step-mother treated me. I have presented the details of how my mother chose to not be involved in my life while growing up … not according to her perception, but according to a young boy who desperately needed a mother … or maybe, needed the experience of not having a loving mother, so that he would have the personal, hands-on experience of the bad part of a mother-son relationship.
I have explained how I took my mother under my wing and gave her access to a free place to live, surrounded by wonderful people who will love her and care for her for the rest of her mortal life. But my mother, has NEVER publicly expressed that she is proud of her son who has presented a perfect, sustainable, and viable plan that can end worldwide poverty, and a perfect plan that can be implemented by the United States Congress that could end child prostitution … in a fucking week! My mother has yet to tell the rest of her children, or anyone else in her life, that if it wasn’t for her third son, her life would be a wreck.
My mother publicly expresses how proud she is of her grandchildren, especially one in particular who chose the LDS/Mormon faith, and who is attending college where she is part of a popular sorority that does charity work. My mother wrote of this particular niece, that her granddaughter is involved in an …
“Event was to raise money & awareness for Heart Disease …the blond is my hero for Alpha Phi…” (A direct quote from my mother’s Facebook page.)
Here is the picture she posted of the event:
These are my nieces from my kid sister, Alesa. I used to be their favorite uncle. But after they read … if they do … what their uncle actually feels about charity work, college: that it is all bad for society and does a lot more harm than charity work does good, I probably won’t be an uncle with whom they want to associate.
Here’s a picture of the same event with all of my sister’s family:
My sister, Alesa, is an incredible human being, too. Her children, compared to most kids their age, like their mother, are kind, compassionate, good people … as the world might see it.
Although all of Alesa’s kids are wonderful examples of human beings, the one who I believe is the kindest of them all, the one who I believe is creme de la creme when it comes to a good person (the one who would be one of the less than 10 people living in Sodom and Gomorrah that would be worth saving) is her only son, standing directly behind Alesa to the right in the picture. This one dropped out of school, likes the feeling of being high on weed, and is having a tough time making it in this fallen, fucked up world. His name is Alec Forrest.
While his blond, LDS/Mormon, college-educated sister is his grandmother’s “hero,” Alec is mine. Why? Because, in spite of his inability to deal with this world, he remains a kind person who would not harm another.
Now, none Alesa’s other children would harm another person intentionally, but her other children have a better chance at being seen by this world as successful and productive, as good, far more than Alec’s true nature will allow him.
But what about Alec?
If this mortal life is about a person being able to live the way that the person wants to live, and be supported in life without having to be forced to do what someone else wants him to do (be a slave to a job he hates), what about Alec? If Alec is not able to have a mortal experience where he can do what Alec wants, then the mortal experience is not playing out the way that it was meant to … the way that it is supposed to for Alec’s True Self.
My role as a True Messenger is specifically for my nephew Alec and all the other “Alecs” existing in this fucked up world!
As to the charity work that my mother boasts of her “blond hero” (a statement that might cause Alec’s self-worth to be questioned), “raising money and awareness for heart disease”: What a bunch of bullshit all the world’s charities are!
Charity work creates more poverty, more despair, more heartache, than any other good thing that the people of this world do in their efforts to feel good about their own worldly success, while the majority of others suffer relentlessly because of their success.
Consider this Real Truth with logic:
(For one of MANY examples of how charitable intentions fuck up this world …)
Most people in the poorest countries in Africa do not have access to free education, or any education for that matter. A good person, so she wants to believe of herself, Oprah Winfrey, goes to Africa and sets up a school for girls. This FUCK of a human being … Yeah, Grandpa said it, and means it … takes a small portion of her billions and builds a school. The school’s exterior and interior are more extravagant and beautiful than anything the people of that area have ever seen or had access to. There’s a fucking beauty salon and two movie theaters, among other worldly things at the school. But the fucking school only has room and funds for a couple of hundred girls. THERE’S FUCKING THOUSANDS OF GIRLS IN THAT AREA THAT NEED FREE EDUCATION AND WOULD LOVE TO GET THEIR HAIR DONE, WATCH MOVIES, DO YOGA, HAVE ACCESS TO WONDERFUL FOOD AND SECURITY … But only a couple of hundred are allowed!
How the fuck do you think the other thousands of girls feel about Oprah Winfrey’s charity work? Oh … let’s see … it’s good to give a hundred girls some dreams that the majority will never fulfill, and make thousands of others feel like shit? That’s good?
Is it good that doctors, who earn a shitload of money in the U.S.A. by providing medical care for profit, take a few weeks of their time and volunteer to travel to impoverished nations to provide healthcare for a few hundred, WHEN HUNDREDS OF THOUSANDS STAND IN LINE AND DO NOT RECEIVE ANY? Oh … let’s see … it’s good to give a couple of hundred free medical care, and make hundreds of thousand of others feel like shit? That’s good?
And don’t you let anyone DARE say that your Grandpa doesn’t know what to do about this problem. Fuck that! The Humanity Party® has these solutions, which are clear as a fucking bell! But do you think that the likes of Oprah Winfrey or Doctors Without Borders are going to support a plan that will eliminate the only thing that gives their guilt, for having more than others, any rest? THumP® would completely eliminate the need for charity work … fucking completely!
So you’d think that my own fucking mother would post something about the incredible plan that The Humanity Party® offers the world instead of giving an accolade to her “hero granddaughter,” who is a fucking LDS/Mormon, who is putting on a fundraiser that makes money and gives it to the fucking people who have set up charitable organizations so that they can get paid a lot of money as “charitable administrators”!
Yeah, your grandpa could go on.
I have never lost a debate about the uselessness of charitable work and the way that charities actually perpetuate and support poverty rather than solving the problem that wouldn’t be there with the simple implementation of an easy economic plan. Give every African person a Healthcare Insurance Card that pays the optima costs for the best health care. Back the program with the unlimited funds that a government can create out of the fucking air (which it does all the time to fight wars), then sit back and watch how many for-profit hospitals and health care facilities pop up all over Africa. Give every fucking African kid an Education Insurance Card that is backed up by government funds and watch how many schools, colleges, and education centers pop up all over Africa!
But noooooooooooooooooooooooooo … go to church and listen to your leaders because God will tell them the right thing to do … go to school and learn how it is done in this world, how charities are set up and supported by law and order … be a hero for grandma, but call Unlce Chris an asshole for pointing out the Real Truth about how things fucking really are!
But anyways … Sigh … take a breath Grandpa … breathe … breathe
Further more, pictures are an illusion. Most people take wonderful pictures. Most families look wonderful and happy in pictures.
Alec’s father, Jim Forrest (pictured to the far left in the picture), is another human who would never intentionally hurt another soul. Jim has stayed with Alesa through thick and thin. But is Jim happy? Is Jim’s mortal experience playing out the way that it was meant to for Jim’s True Self? Does Jim have the ability to exercise his free will and do what Jim wants to do, or is he forced to do things that don’t bring him happiness, thus negating the purpose for which this mortal life is supposed to take place for Jim’s True Self?
The answer comes from what Jim has always told me whenever I have met with him and asked, “How’s it going, Jim?”
Every time … every, single time … Jim’s answer was the same,
“Saving for that bullet.”
I truly love my sister and her family. As the details of my life unfold, you will come to see how Alesa stood by my side and supported me in my desires to live life my way.
After I was released from jail in January of 2002 (details on this will come later), my wife at the time, Sherilyn Richardson Nemelka (not Sheryl Huffor Nemelka) and I had nowhere to live. Alesa let us live with her. Alesa ran a government-certified daycare out of her home. When Jackie found out that Sheri and I were living with Alesa, Jackie called the government agency that approved daycare facilities and reported that Alesa had a “convicted Felon” living at her home. Alesa almost lost her license and her main means of supporting her family. Not only was I not a Felon, but I have never, ever, been a threat to children, in any way. Jackie knew this, but she lied. Jackie maliciously acted. Jackie was fucking evil!
Yes, the woman who I was married to and who knew that I would never harm a child, did some very malicious things, the details of which will be unfolded in this autobiography. Jackie did everything she could to put me and keep me in jail … EVERY FUCKING EVIL THING SHE COULD DO!
When I was released from jail on November 15, 2001, after completing a misdemeanor sentence given me by a LDS/Mormon judge who hated me, I married Sherilyn and we went to see my kids who hadn’t seen me for over a year. Jackie would not let me see them. The kids saw me through the window, but Jackie would not let me come in or them come out to see their father, who loved and missed them dearly. Jackie, colluding with others, called the Judge who had sentenced me to a year in jail and complained that I had been released earlier than a year. I was, obviously, a perfect inmate and received 4 months good time off my sentence.
Just two days after I tried to see our children at Jackie’s, the LDS/Mormon judge, Denise Lindberg, issued a warrant for my re-arrest. When I was rebooked in the same jail from which I had just been released four days previously, the jail administration stopped the booking process, because they believed that some sort of mistake had been made. The Booking Supervisor called Judge Lindberg. Lindberg told him that I wasn’t supposed to receive any good time and that she had ordered that I serve the entire year without good time.
The Supervisor argued that the jail had Lindberg’s original incarceration order that the judge had signed on March 15, 2001, on file. The original order did not specify that I was not to receive any good time … which is highly unusual, except in cases where a convicted person is a threat to society.
Lindberg had her fucking clerk call back the jail and tell them that she had signed another order, after the first order was signed, that had taken away my ability to earn good time. This fucking Judge … are you ready for this … and it can be proven with the documentation and evidence in this case … signed a new order two days after I had been released … and after Jackie and a few others had called her up complaining that I was harassing them … BACKDATED THE NEW ORDER TO REFLECT THE DATE OF THE ORIGINAL ORDER THAT DIDN’T BAR ME FROM HAVING GOOD TIME!
I would later sue Judge Denise Lindberg for what she had done. But ff course, Judges have no liability for what they do unless what they have done is properly appealed. Had the order forms been numbered, there would have been no way that Judge Lindberg could have backdated the form. (Wait until I reveal all the details of what Judge Lindberg did … illegally … but obviously legally … because whatever a judge does is the law of Sodom and Gormorrah … Fucking Really!)
The Lieutenant in charge of the jail was confused and figured out what Lindberg had done, and though he completely disagreed, there was nothing he could do about it. He advised me to get an attorney to fight Lindberg. I was going to serve another four months on a fucking misdemeanor charge. And I should have just served the other four months and I would have been done with Lindberg’s fucked up justice. But Alesa and Sheri didn’t want me in jail for another day. They fought to get me released.
After two more months in jail, they were successful at forcing Judge Lindberg to hold a hearing on my release. The first thing that Lindberg said when my case came up, was: “Mr. Nemelka, it’s no secret that I don’t like you!” Yeah. Really! (We have the recording of the hearing. And what Lindberg did was, again, fucked up. Judge Lindberg had her clerk erase the first part of the hearing where she says that she doesn’t like me. The record starts in mid sentence after calling the case on the record.)
Judge Denise P. Lindberg would one day retire from the bench and become … are you ready for this … a General Board officer, sitting on the church-wide Young Women’s Board … for the LDS/Mormon Church! Yeah. Fucked up Really … just like a religion found in Sodom and Gomorrah would have it!
But perfect to the facts and symbolism of my life. As I get to that part in my autobiography, you will come to see how Lindberg was personally responsible for motivating me to finally accept the role offered to me as the True Messenger for the Marvelous Work and a Wonder® and the Spokesperson for The Humanity Party®. Had Lindberg not done what she did at that crucial time in my life, I would have not wanted to contact mentors and been willing to fulfill the role that they asked me to do, and which I gave up in the later part of 1991.
You see, Grandkids, I was convinced by my mentors to make amends with Paula and move to Montana. They set a trap for me … that’s right … a trap. Not a malicious trap, but a very wise and important one so that I could learn things about this world that they wanted me to learn. They needed me to see the world as a Sodom and Gomorrah.
They needed me to have the firsthand experiences with the world, and with people whom the world sees as normal and good people— experiences that were absolutely malicious and evil. They needed me to be treated badly by my parents, by all of my ex-wives, by my children, by my family, by the legal system, by everyone who the world believes is good. They wanted me to see the world for what it really was, what they knew it was: evil as hell!
As I mentioned above, I had on rose-colored glasses when I was dealing with the Olexens, the Bartelheimers, the Churches, and others. I was perfectly okay with what my father had done to me in Snohomish, because the legal system took my side and supported me. The law was on my side at that time. The Bartelheimers and Chruches were on my side. I no longer had to worry about my father or Paula disrupting my life again.
The world was great … as I saw it through these glasses.
But the “glasses” through which my mentors saw the world … yep, through the spectacles—as others would call the two rocks known as the Urim and Thummim—the world was far from good. It was fucking evil! Through my mentors’ “glasses,” what these people did was, again, FUCKING EVIL!
Grandkids, you’ll read on in my autobiography about the things that were done as I dealt with others in my life. Again, although I see the things that they did as bad, maybe you’ll see them as good. The world sees them as good things … Well, I’m not quite sure how Jackie turning in Alesa’s daycare for harboring a Felon that wasn’t a Felon was good … I’m not quite sure how my dad trying to get me arrested was good … and there are a plethora (abundance) of other things that I’m going to report about my life that were done that I am not sure how they were good … but they were done by others. I will present the facts of the events, you must provide the judgment of what is good and what is bad.
From April 1991 to June of 1991, I was meeting with my recruiters regularly and learning about their work and what they wanted me to do. They showed me how to use “the rocks.” They showed me the gold plates that were used to create the Book of Mormon, and from which they would have me perform the work of publishing The Sealed Portion of the Book of Mormon. Although I had known since June of 1987 that the Book of Mormon stories were not actually true, so I had figured that the existence of gold plates couldn’t be true either, the reason for the gold plates was finally and properly explained to me.
The words for the story were and are actually texted through advanced cell phone technology. If you have a phone and Grandpa has a phone, I can text you a novel if I wanted, line upon line, a little bit at a time, in order to give you an opportunity to write it. But if I texted it all at once, it might be too overwhelming for you, and you might miss a few words or sentences here and there that would corrupt the story. To make sure that neither Joseph nor I missed any words or sentences, we were shown how to put “the rocks” over each plate and how the words would appear. The plates were props used by our mentors to encourage us to slow down and make sure we wrote exactly what they wanted us to write.
One might ask, how did all this work? Okay, I’ll tell you:
It took our mentors (recruiters) about four years to make the plates. In September of 1823, they met for the first time with seventeen year-old Joseph Smith, Jr.. Joseph Smith was a teenager with little education. They had been following Joseph most of his life and knew of his transfiguration three years earlier. Joseph became the talk of the locals after his brain was changed so that he knew things that no one else on earth knew … so he thought at the time. Joseph Smith knew nothing about the mortal immortals until they introduced themselves to him about 3 years and 6 months after his transfiguration. Oh …
… Do you see a pattern here?
Joseph Smith’s transfiguration: April 6, 1820. Christopher’s: June 16, 1987.
Joseph meets them in September of 1823, three years and about six months after his brain change.
Christopher meets them in April of 1991, three years and about ten months after his brain change.
For three years, both Joseph and I were observed to see how we would handle the information to which our mortal brains had access.
It’s very important here that you understand some of the events that led up to my mentors choosing a young teenage American to help them introduce a story about the native Americans that would help the white-skinned European Christians accept the darker skinned people from whom they stole America.
These immortal mortals are among the people of the world incognito. They travel and do anything in their power (remember, there is no magic in what they do … whatever they do they must utilize the developed technology restricted to the laws of nature of planet Earth) to help humanity. That’s what they do. That’s what they have always done. That’s what they will always do.
They first approached Thomas Jefferson pretending to be emissaries from France interested in American politics and the new religious freedom. Two of them live in France currently, and all of them speak French just like, even better, than a native French person. Jefferson was intrigued with the uniqueness of the scene they presented to him: two white, beautiful looking, although slightly on the feminine side, men, and their entourage of two small-statured Peruvians, all who could speak perfect French and English.
They had a plan that they explained to Jefferson about helping the American Christians become more accepting of the darker-skinned native Americans. They told Jefferson their plan. Jefferson was offered the role of the True Messenger. But to do so, Jefferson would have to make up a story about how God came to him and instructed him to write God’s word, a new Americanized scripture. There was no other way that anyone was going to believe that it was God’s word, unless it came from God the way the Bible did. There must be a story consistent with the Bible in which the Christians believed. If Moses received the word from God, then so could Jefferson.
Jefferson understood their premise and why they would need to present the new scripture in this way, but they could not convince him that making up another story was the right way to do it. Jefferson was very popular and respected. He wasn’t about to put his popularity and respect in question by claiming that had visited with God and received God’s word for the American people. Jefferson agreed, however, that something had to be done. Jefferson rejected the Brothers and their way and did it his way.
A year before Joseph Smith, Jr. was born, Jefferson published a book that was a direct result of him unknowingly meeting with four mortal immortals:
The Philosophy of Jesus of Nazareth, being Extracted from the Account of His Life and Doctrines Given by Matthew, Mark, Luke and John; Being an Abridgement of the New Testament for the Use of the Indians, Unembarrased [uncomplicated] with Matters of Fact or Faith beyond the Level of their Comprehensions.
Having failed with Jefferson, the Brothers found a popular preacher of that time, Ethan Smith (no direct relation to Joseph). They introduced the plan to Ethan Smith. He rejected it too, but incorporated the idea behind the native Americans being of Hebrew ancestry, which would have equalized the ‘God’s people of the House of Israel’ idea. If the white-skinned European-American Christians could be convinced that the native Americans were already Jewish and part of the House of Israel by birth, these American Christians might start treating them with more respect and equality.
Like Jefferson, Ethan Smith had too much to lose in claiming that God chose him as a True Messenger to introduce a new “word of God” (scripture) to the people. But the Fuck stole the Brothers’ idea and wrote his own book, View of the Hebrews. Although the idea that the native Americans might have been from the mythical lost ten tribes of Israel had been passes around in religious circles, Ethan Smith would have never even thought or had any idea about associating the native Americans with the Hebrews as direct descendants of the Jews who traveled across the ocean to get to the Western Hemisphere, if not for his interactions with the Brothers … the PLAGIARIZING FUCK!
When Ethan Smith, the opportunistic fuck that he was, first published their storyline as his own book in 1823, they knew the had to make their move with the young teenager, Joseph Smith, and prepare him to do it their way.
There were no gold plates when they met with the young teenager in September of 1823. It took them about four years to make them. Joseph Smith did not tell anyone about what really happened after his transfiguration in 1820 and leading up to the publication of the Book of Mormon ten years later. He was counseled not to. Finally, because of the pressure of so many of Joseph’s original supporters and “friends” leaving him and calling him a “false prophet,” in 1839, shortly before the Brothers left Joseph to be murdered, they counseled him to pen a story that fit.
“[September 1823] I made an attempt to take [the gold plates] out, but was forbidden by the messenger, and was again informed that the time for bringing them forth had not yet arrived, neither would it, until four years from that time; but he told me that I should come to that place precisely in one year from that time, and that he would there meet with me, and that I should continue to do so until the time should come for obtaining the plates.
“Accordingly, as I had been commanded, I went at the end of each year, and at each time I found the same messenger there, and received instruction and intelligence from him at each of our interviews, respecting what the Lord was going to do, and how and in what manner his kingdom was to be conducted in the last days.” (Pearl of Great Price, Joseph Smith History 1:53-54.)
What were the Brothers doing during those four years of preparing Joseph Smith for his eventual role? Making the plates (with an appearance of gold). They needed a prop. I have told you that my mentors have never lied to me … EVER! And they never lied to Joseph.
They told Joseph that they would engrave the words upon the plates so that he could use the rocks’ ancient technology to decipher the words. By engraving the words in a language that the only rocks could translate, if the plates were actually discovered or lost, the information would be fully protected.
When they presented the finished plates to Joseph in September of 1827, 2/3 were sealed. The unsealed part had characters on and throughout the few leafs that were unsealed. Joseph did not have a typewriter or a word processor to help him, and he was a lousy writer. The Brothers wanted to make sure that when he was reading the words that were actually texted to him, he would pay meticulous attention to detail. This was the sole purpose for the plates. How else would they ensure that Joseph read their words specifically and in detail when he read them to the scribes whom wrote for him?
There was only one reason, at the time, why they put the bands around the “sealed” part of the plates. Had Joseph broken the bands or peeked at the part that they didn’t want him to worry about at the time, there wouldn’t have been any characters written on the sealed part. They hadn’t written this part yet. Keep in mind that the sealed portion was the failsafe, if the unsealed part did not work.
When they showed me the plates in 1991, there were no bands or sealed part. Every plate had characters meticulously engraved on it. There was not a space that was not used. I was impressed at the intricate and beautiful way that they did it. It must have taken them tens of hundreds of hours to engrave those fucking plates … only so that Joseph and I would be impressed and pay attention to what we were doing when we were relying the words that appeared on the ancient cell phone that they were actually texting to us.
I could write. I had a word processor. I didn’t need a scribe. My part was twice as large as his. Being the maverick, humorous guy that I was, I jokingly said one day,
“What’s this actual shit on these plates? If you guys are texting us the information anyway, why do we need these plates and characters?”
As they have often done when they do not want to answer me directly, and to never lie to me, T smiled and said nothing. I was amused and went along with whatever reason they had for the props. I would one day come to understand the importance of the plates as props to motivate Joseph and me to do it their way … not our way … not Jefferson’s way … not Ethan Smith’s (the Fuck) way …. but their way.
The props that were in their possession and shown to me in 1991, were the exact same plates that took them four years to make back in 1823 to 1827. They had plenty of years to prepare them for the sealed portion.
They spent four years instructing Joseph Smith,
“[Joseph] received instruction and intelligence from [them] at each of [their] interviews, respecting what the Lord was going to do, and how and in what manner his kingdom was to be conducted in the last days.”
They had only instructed me and given me “intelligence at each of our interviews, respecting what the Lord was going to do, and the how and in what manner” “the Lord” was going to bring about The Sealed Portion of the Book of Mormon—The Final Testament of Jesus Christ, for about 3 months, when my world started to fall apart.
The next part of Grandpa’s autobiography will detail how the rose-colored glasses that I was wearing at the time, that made me see the world as having the potential for good, were fucking shattered!
For the rest of my life, I would finally come to see the world for what it really was: FUCKING EVIL.
I would start to have the necessary experiences that the Brothers needed me to have in order to prepare me to be whom I have become … whom I have always been … whom I actually volunteered to become before this world existed: a True Messenger.
The problem with this world, and the primary reason why it isn’t improving and is getting worse, is because many of things that the world believes and supports as good, are actually bad, and many things that the world believes and supports as bad, are actually good.
If the people of the world were doing things that were actually good for humanity, the world would be improving. But because almost everything … yep, almost every fucking thing … that the world thinks is good is actually bad for humanity, the world is getting worse.
Good people are doing bad things as a natural reaction to things that they think are good, when actually, they are very bad for our humanity. The proof of this is in the pudding. The empirical evidence of this is simple: The world is getting worse.
There is no good in separate nations divided by borders and political divisions. There is no good in any relationship between humans that put one group above another. There is no good in the family unit. There is no good in religion. There is no good upon this Earth!
In 1991, I was like Abraham in the Bible story who asked the “Three Nephites” … oops .. Freudian slip … “Three Holy Men” … yep … think about it … when they wanted to destroy Sodom and Gomorrah because these cities weren’t worth saving …
“Wilt thou also destroy the righteous with the wicked?”
I thought that Jackie was righteous. I thought that Paula and Carl Ladenburg were descent people, who sincerely only wanted what was best for the kids. I thought a lot of people at the time were righteous and not wicked.
So, as the story about Sodom and Gomorrah goes …
Come on God! If I can find fucking 50 people in the world who are righteous, can we save it?
“Peradventure there be fifty righteous in the world: wilt thou also destroy and not spare the world for the fifty righteous that are therein?
“That be far from thee to do after this manner, to slay the righteous with the wicked: and that the righteous should be as the wicked, that be far from thee: Shall not the Judge of all the earth do right?”
Okay, Christopher, If I find upon the earth fifty righteous, then I will spare the world for their sakes.
Weren’t there even 50 fucking people on Earth who were righteous in 1991?
And Christopher answered and said, “Behold now, I have taken upon me to speak unto the Lord, which am but dust and ashes: Peradventure there shall lack five of the fifty righteous: wilt thou destroy all the city for lack of five? And he said, If I find there forty and five, I will not destroy it.”
And Christopher spake unto him yet again, and said, “Peradventure there shall be forty found there. And he said, I will not do it for forty’s sake.”
And Christopher said unto him, “Oh let not the Lord be angry, and I will speak: Peradventure there shall thirty be found there. And he said, I will not do it, if I find thirty there.”
And Christopher said, “Behold now, I have taken upon me to speak unto the Lord: Peradventure there shall be twenty found there. And he said, I will not destroy it for twenty’s sake.”
“And Christopher said, Oh let not the Lord be angry, and I will speak yet but this once: Peradventure ten shall be found there. And he said, I will not destroy it for ten’s sake.”
There weren’t even 10 fucking people in the world in 1991 that were righteous! Not even 10! Not even Jackie, my beloved wife!
How could this be?
It could be because what the people of the world believe is good (righteous) is actually bad (evil).
I had no idea that seemingly good people were so bad.
I was about to find out through empirical evidence.
Oh, my God! This world is like Sodom and Gomorrah! It is fucking evil!
And there was none as evil at that time than my father and Paula and Carl Ladenburg.