Author Archive
STEPHEN KING IS A MURDERER!
Stephen King is a murderer. He shot John Lennon in the back, like the coward
he is, and stole a musical/political genius from all of you. He ruined your world,
deliberately, and now you are living in the nightmare he has created for you. Now,
until you put him in jail where he belongs, all of of you are, really, just his cowards.
Decoy, Chapman was in the police station while King shot John and the police switched
them behind the scenes. Chapman is acting.
Nixon and Reagan facilitated this nightmare murder/assassination as well as Yoko
Ono (though there is little proof of her role, unlike the government codes in
Time and Newsweek and U.S. News that nail King, Nixon and Reagan).
King won’t deny it, never has and is too smart to enrage the public that al-
ready knows he is guilty by lying to you now. He’d rather get killed by a van
than admit what he did. He has confided to his friend who used to own that
now closed bookstore, Stu, I think, that; “He (King) is afraid of getting fried.”
Yes, the government probably did try to run down King in 1999 to shut my story up
and we all know how quickly the driver who failed was found dead at 41, after.
I believe the multiple sources from Maine who told me that King was convicted of
having sex with a 15 year old in 1992 in Belfast, Maine and the other reports
that he spent money to have sex with other minors, male and female, then.
King won’t dare sue me either because that would cast media attention on my hard,
incontrovetible evidence against him and that would mean life in prison.
Have you noticed how many of King’s books dwell on life in prison: The Green
Mile. Shawshank Redemption, etc.?
The closest King ever came to denying my claim that he killed John Lennon was
in 1994 in Santa Cruz, Ca. when a girl asked him if he killed John Lennon. He
said; “No,….(dramatic, long pause)…comment.” Just couldn’t say “No.”
Now my website; www.lennonmurdertruth.com places him at the scene getting Len-
non’s last autograph (not look-alike Chapman) and in Time and Newsweek issues
released a few months earlier. One and the same. Chapman’s not even close. Not
very bright of him to leave his mug at the scene as well as magazines months
before the murder. A child can see it’s him. Now, people of America, people of New
York, who never even put Chapman on trial in the first place, find a spine and
expose him. Or are you King’s sick cowards? Many of you are, you know. “Sympathy
for the devil.” You can still get well, people.
I believe that most of you are just temporarilly sick and weak and media controlled and
that once you get informed you WILL JAIL KING’S SICK ASS and punish him for
what he did to you and the future and the world.
My stay here in Maine will forever etch in history whether you people are good
and strong enough to take a stand against evil or not. Whether you are good,
upright parents or bootlicking mush, child molesters. There’s no in between.
Look at the O.J. trial: A classic example of evil subduing the better senses of man.
Is Phil Specter guilty? Robert Blake? The people of America are getting steam-
rolled because they have been turned into media controlled, cowardly oatmeal.
Stephen King, besides calling all of you: “Blind, obsessive fools.” warns you,
also repeatedly,; “Beware the Jewish/communist plot against the U.S..”
ABC media is so Jewish and diabolical that you should pay attention. ABC’s the
worst but all the big networks are working you over with gun pointing, murder-
ous violence everywhere you turn. They are desensitizing you so that you will
be willing to kill Iraqi’s right now. Look at all your “Dateline”,”48 Hours” shows
showcasing Americans killing people and not much else, lately. Look at all your
“24 Hours”,”The Unit”,”The Agency”,”Miami CSI” shows and others all about “Big
Brother” going after the terrorists and rubbing your faces in murder.
Can’t you all see that the media is the government mind controlling you?
King was stalking Bruce Stringsteen in 1992; engaging in back stage parties, stage
rehearsals etc. until I got on New York’s biggest radio talk show and warned
Springsteen’s friends that King was likely planning to murder him, too.
What are the chances that the van “accident” and subsequent death of the driver
happened as you were told? I say only ten per cent. What are the chances that
King had the driver killed with or without help? I say 30 per cent.
What are the chances that the governmnent concocted a plan to kill King to stop
my expose and killed the driver after because he was a loose string? I say seventy
per cent, people. Think about it, now:
Six years after I spent six months in Bangor with my “van” with the slogan: “Stephen
King Shot John Lennon” King was mowed down down by a “van” with an unruly, large
Rotweiler dog distracting the driver. Can you people see the parallels to
“Cujo” and “Christine” the movie about a car who plays rock and roll that,
seemingly, can’t be killed? Can you see how the government wanted all of you
to say; “Jeeze! Remember that guy with the van from California, and now King
ends up getting killed by a van? I guess if King DID kill Lennon his karma
caught up with him and we can just let it go at that.” ?????!!!!! The government
is exactly that sophisticated and knows just which buttons of yours to push.
If you people want to LET the governmnet kill Stephen King then call me a whacko
and do nothing. They probably will. If you want to save his life then help
me expose and arrest him for John Lennon’s murder. He’s only buying your silence
with his money, baseball fields, etc.. He’s like the guy who, after he is arrest-
ed for murdering ten people, his neighbors all say; “But he was such a nice
man. I just can’t believe it.” King is a sociopath who shot Lennon to get back
at all of you for teasing him as a child and because he wanted to kill his father
for walking out on him when he was two.
King wishes you all WOULD expose him before he gets killed only he doesn’t have
the guts to say so. Meanwhile his latest book parallels his desire to move to
Florida (out of shame?) and he admits that he wishes he hadn’t survived his
“accident”. Just read the inside cover.
I want King to live, to tell us all what he knows about the government and the
Jewish/communist plot against the U.S.. I want to see Chapman arrested for his
role as decoy. I want to see what’s Yoko got to do with everything, too.
DON’T ALL OF YOU? You can’t just sit around like fools and get steamrolled any
more by our governments history of always killing your heroes. This expose
is your big break, America. I’m only here for a few months and you need to get
on board with me and grow ‘a pair.’ Otherwise you can all start singing
“…the land of the deceived and the not very brave.” at your ball games.
Did “Big Oil” kill Lennon to start a war with Iraq? Is $4.00 @ gallon gas a
plot to kill the middle class as new world order plans suggest?
Help me come forward before I get killed, please. I need your support, people.
If I were to write a song now my first verse would be;
“Live wire walking on a high wire. Poor life hanging by a thread,
Busting the government for John Lennon’s murder, Lucky I’m not already dead.”
I’d like to be your rock star someday and pick up where Lennon left off. Help me.
P.S. I just learned, from a Bangor resident, that King has legally changed his
primary residence from Maine to Florida. Now he can run from his murderer
status and play cards with O.J..
P.P.S.
Maine residents, get over your weak, polite, unAmerican position of protecting
King from my expose and find your moral compass. Though I may be in New York
for several weeks, I will return and hope to find that you’ve found a spine
to help me reel in this monster who murdered John Lennon.
See my other chapter below; “Beware Bob Grant et all”, “”Chapman is crap, man”
and “NYPD plot at Strawberry Fields?” to get the scoop on evil witch, Yoko Ono.
(Written years ago in my ‘Angry Young Man’ days. I’m less bitter, lately.)
MY CREDENTIALS AND BELIEFS;
Scroll a little further down, please. Welcome to my New developments page. Multiple chapters can be accessed by
scrolling to the bottom of each one where a listing of other chapters are.
Just click to the one of your choice.
This chapter intends to present myself, my credentials and my beliefs.
I have to laugh at how ridiculous all this bragging is bound to sound
but it must be said to wash all of the the media propaganda off of you.
One of the reasons John Lennon was able to change the world was because he
had proven himself to be a genius, certainly in music, singing and musicianship.
No one stood out more than he in our lifetime. It’s one reason he remains
the single most photographed human that ever lived. He was fascinating.
He had established credibility.
At the risk of sounding self important I must confess to all of you that,
while I am not the genius John was, I am not the whacko some think either.
In fact, looking over my shoulder and past, I can see many things about me that
ARE different, even outstanding.
Jonathan Swift once said; “You can always tell who the genius of the com-
munity is. He’s the one the townspeople ridicule the most.”
Both characterizations apply to me, frankly.
In fact anyone who says “The emperor is naked.”, as I am doing with my Lennon
expose, is implying that society is a fool.
Naturaly no one will want to believe him at first.
I have certainly been ridiculed these past two decades, although I know many
realize that I have always been absolutely correct and are just amazed at my
testicular fortitude, my balls, for going public with my facts.
For those of you who doubt the veracity of my allegations and evidence, here
are some of my credentials;
At 17 I became the first person ever to trisect an angle with just a compass
and straightedge. I was told, in 1971, that it had never been done before
by my geometry teacher Dick Nixon (Believe it or not.) the first day of class.
A month or so later, after I had learned the bare bones basics of geometry, I
decided to give it a try.
Every angle creates an arc and I tried to use an identical arc to trisect
it the way you do with a line and line segment. I noticed a bias; large,
medium and small. I next duplicated the proceedure going in the opposite
direction to reverse the bias. Now I had two pair of points, each with the
accompanying reverse bias. Since you can bisect an arc I bisected each pair
resulting in a perfect trisection. I basically butterflied the first pro-
ceedure to counter the bias and split the difference resulting in a perfect
trisection.
I went to my teachers home one night to show him and he tried it on obtuse and
acute angles and it worked every time. He told me I would be famous if I
could explain, via a theorum, why it worked.
Math related subjects bored me and it seemed to easy to get fame for it. As
simple as the concept used in reverse bias ply tires, it seemed to me.
Fifteen years later I heard radio broadcaster Paul Harvey trumpet this feat as
another man had done this. I listened as he explained that this man relied on
inverting an origional proceedure to balance the result and it sounded like what
I did over a decade earlier.
This was a world class achievement on my part, outfoxing the likes of Einstein,
Newton and countless others. I remain unimpressed, however.
Thinking outside the box is all. Beginners luck.
But a lot of other things I am proud of;
I went from being practically the only student who couldn’t read in first
grade to being a book ahead of the class months later, having learned to read
from Treasure Island with my fathers help; I aced my first ever test; I was
so knowledeable about dinosaurs in first grade that the eighth grade teacher
let me lecture her class; I received an A-/B+ average through eighth grade in
a private Catholic parochial school; I beat out the entire school once in the
speech contest (I used Patrick Henry’s “Give me liberty or give me death” speech.);
I built model airplanes and boats as well as seasoned adults and even practiced
falconry in my early and mid teens; I was well liked and popular, in spite of
all this, besides.
I loved sports, especially baseball, where I went three seasons without a single
strikeout (Summer league). When I took up golf I broke 90 my first try, shot
68 a year later and 64 six months after that.(Par 70 course.) and was voted most
dedicated by my high school team.
In high school I only got a B+ average (My parents prefered that over straight
A’s.) Throughout my first twelve years I was one of the best artists in my
school(s) (Perhaps my most conspicuous talent.)
I fell in love in high school and enjoyed a beautiful relationship with a lovely
Japanese/American girl; I achieved top 3% in the language section of the S.A.T.
and guesstimated my way to top 13% in the math section; My college I.Q. test
rated me at 165.
Much of this sounds Mickey Mouse, I’m sure, but I’m proud of all of it.
In college I majored in Journalism my first year (My essay was the first one
that the teacher read to the class.) and Advertising my second year (My ad
was picked by the class for our semester project.) My slogan was;”Time In A
Bottle.” for a wine company and made publication.
I was on the college golf team, only managing third man on the roster, and
my grades were slightly less than a B average.
While in college I became philosophically ambivalent about society and the
path I was on. I really wanted to be a professional golfer and I burned my
bridges towards that end, dropping out of school and taking odd jobs, mostly
as a cook, between tournements.
I almost made the U.S. Amateur roster my first try after being one under
through 31 holes at James River course in Virginia when I drew a large, unex-
pected crowd which threw me off my concentration. I went from third in a field
of 108 to eighth winning the playoff for the alternate spot.
I also tried out for the PGA Tour, three times, but placed as an also ran.
About that time I was going through a melodramatic relationship with a girl
who moved in with me while using a false name, past, everything. At one point
she had the Atlanta homocide and intelligence departments at my apartment
while I was playing in an event out of state.
She claimed a satan’s cult leader was trying to kill her for her threat-
ening to expose him. (Something to do with her sisters victimization.) I had
no idea what was really going on and I took everything with a grain of salt.
Ultimately this drama resulted in our breakup.
A year later I discovered her real name, past, etc. from a former boyfriend of
hers. The experience made me far less naive about life and people than most.
Just finding out this much taught me detective skills, that and a high school
project about Sherlock Holmes novels.
I can spot a lie faster than anyone I know and I confess to remarkable detect-
ive skills and instints. Absolutely uncanny.
And so when I heard that John Lennon had been shot I knew, instantly, that
the story about a lone drifter was hogwash and that only powerful people were
interested in killing him. Somehow the fact that Nixon tried to deport him for
three years during the early 70’s escaped me though.
Because I am so authentic and human and real I had trouble concentrating on
work after Chapman’s trial got skipped over by the media and courts. My first
suspicions were bearing out, that there was a coverup afoot, and I needed a
beach bum’s vacation. I sold my car, put my belongings in storage and took
off to San Diego to indulge myself in the rapture of Beatles music which I
listened to constantly via my Walkman while I pedalled the anger out of my
system, some 30 miles every day.
I knew that I would be killed someday if I made the pro tour. I wanted to be
the next John Lennon, only in golf spikes with a peace symbol on my visor.
I had a vested, personal reason to solve John’s murder besides our collective
benefit.
And so it was, one month after I saw the tiny clipping in the back of
the San Diego Union titled; “Lennon’s assassin pleads guilty; Sentenced 20
years to life”, that I knew John’s murder was being covered up.
Chapman was allowed to skip what should have been the trial of the century
and enter his plea behind closed doors because; “God told me to…”
This was in June of 1982, not ’81, as other authors suggest, a year and a half
after the crime of the century was put on media silence hold. I even had a
bumper sticker made that read; “U.S. Govt. Planned John Lennon’s Death!” and
attached it to my bike.
Several weeks later and following a powerful, bizarre dream, I found myself
involuntarily propelled, like a torpedo, into the Pacific Beach Public Library
to read the initial reports on Chapman’s road to justice.
(See About Author page for details of this historic revelation.) It was truly
like being used by Gods will, not mine. The evidence rained on me like a water-
fall, far more than luck could manage.
Finding this evidence, having the comprehension skills to grasp it all and
overcoming the urge to deny it and then to GO FORWARD with it to the mass
public is the single most significant thing I have ever done. When I translate
this expose into history making reality and the guilty are jailed and the
public is forced to change in the wake of the hugeness of the evil that was
uncovered, it will be the most significant thing anyone has done since Jesus
Christ, in my humble opinion.
Now I don’t say that lightly and I know many of you will think me a supreme
egotist but that is not the case. I have a better grasp of the promise of
this expose than anyone on earth, with the possible exception of the govern-
ment I am exposing.
To give you a glimmer of what I mean consider this;
Reagan would not have been elected president for a second term, Bush Sr. and
Bush Jr. would never have been president, Princess Dianna would still be alive
if this story broke when it should have in 1983. That’s just for beginners.
I don’t think it will result in BC/AD time deliniation and I don’t think it
is anywhere near as big as what Jesus did, but I know that nothing this big
has happened since. We’ll all see, I predict. “The Event”, in John’s words.
This was Paul McCartney’s first quote the day after John’s death. Paul was
asked for a comment and he said; “Well that was John’s thing, The Event, he
called it.” As if John had known he would be killed and that the government
would get caught and that that would trigger an event of revolutionary proportions.
John even wrote songs about his upcoming murder urging us to “Come together”
over him, “Don’t Let Me Down” and more blatant other songs.
In fact this story, according to Bush Sr., is responsible for his failed bid
for re-election in 1992. Go read the New York Times transcripts of the
Richmond, Va. debate where he says; “…But I am a president who is talking
the issues. You know, nobody likes “Who shot John” but I think governor Clin-
ton is the one mounting a negative campaign…”
He was refering to my magazine, then titled “Everybody’s Business; Who Shot
John Lennon?” that I was distributing in Kennebunkport, Maine and Bangor,
Maine at the time, resulting in a 20 point swing in one week in his popular-
ity ratings in Kennebunkport. He said it days earlier, in Florida, too.
You should know that I have stood two inches away from Stephen King once when
he stuttered to me; “T-take c-care. I w-want you to t-take care.” when I was
in downtown Bangor singing a song about him and Nixon and Reagan. I spent over
six months there in three different visits and, no, he has NEVER denied my
claims. In fact I once defeated his lawyer when he tried to pipe me down with a
protection from harassment injunction. I won.
While on the subject of famous endorsements you should know that Paul McCart-
ney endorsed me by my first name at the 1990 Berkeley concert. It was on
April Fools Day, during the instrumental of Fool On The Hill when he yel-
led out; “Yeah STEEEEEEVE! That’s RIGHT! I don’t know what YOU think Berkeley,
but I want you to know that we LIKE IT and we NEED you as a PEOPLE to GET to
the promised land…”
I have it on tape for proof. The story behind his remark began months
earlier when I met his brother Michael in San Francisco and asked him to ask
Paul for some help. I was THE most famous activist west of the Rockies then
and I hung out, almost exclusively, in Berkeley. He WAS refering to ME.
In 1994 I was falsely arrested by Santa Cruz police for suspicion of trespassing
for stepping into the bookshop King was appearing at. It was a pre-planned set-
up to put me on national tv in handcuffs and to brand me as a stalker,
which I am absolutely not. While I was stewing in jail Dan Rather, Tom
Brokaw, Peter Jennings and the entire national media was showing me being
pushed into a police car in handcuffs.
The bogus charge was dropped two days later but their ruse was accomplished.
Typical of the government lie, the truth was transposed, reversed, to make me
a stalker and King a hero. The exact opposite is the truth.
In fact, King was asked that day, by a girl,; “Did you kill John Lennon?”
King replied; “No (Dramatic pause) comment.”
He couldn’t leave it at “No.”
Some of my other credemtials include being the most persecuted non criminal
in California history, I believe. (See my Current Updates page for details
of all the terrorism I’ve endured over the years. And I still have much more
that I have yet to add.)
I have been kidnapped and beaten unconscious, I have had guns pointed in my
face three times. In fact my father may have been killed in a plane crash
just to scare me, following a threat letter I received from Stephen King.
The military controlled mass media and all of talk radio has tried to margin-
alize me as a whacko (The main reason I am forced to brag a little here.) and
anyone else would surely have either been killed, gone mad or committed a
crime by now to break the story.
In fact I have reason to believe that the government is going behind my back
to my employers to get me fired lately, trying to apply pressure on me to
either keep moving from town to town to prevent me from establishing strong
community ties or to drive me to the point of crime to survive.
I will frustrate them, not vice-versa.
Regarding my day job credentials I have had dozons of jobs, mostly in rest-
aurants, as a cook or manager or waiter. I have also done retail supermarket
work as a section manager, checker and stocker and even managed a small,
custom golf shop for over two years. In that position I achieved recognition
from the Business Review Board, beating out all the other golf shops in the
San Jose area of California.
Knowing that my future is tied up in the truth about John Lennon’s murder
makes it hard to want to climb the job ladder. My future will be huge
enough if I can just succeed at breaking this mega story.
You should know, if you’ve read my website, that I turned down Stephen King’s
veiled attempt to bribe me with “..anything (I want)…”. I’m sure he would
be willing to part with 30 million to shut me up. Not going to happen.
My father was a doctor and my mother was a housewife and I had planned on be-
coming an advertising copywriter or golf course architect or something that
paid well but I ended up with the biggest news story ever told in modern time
instead. I don’t mind being poor.
What I do mind is being single with no family of my own as I near my 50th
birthday. For decades my life has been so filled with real danger that I am
hesitant to let a woman into my life and the government crosshairs that come
with it. I don’t want to give the government a target to get to me with.
And so I say; Aren’t all of you Americans a little ashamed of putting me in that
postion after I have come to YOUR rescue? That includes my own family. Is
your record of apathy and indifference going to encourage others to save you
after I am dead and gone? Are you scaring off the next hero?
And yet I still have faith that you will all rise to the occasion soon.
I am still a very lucky guy.
Incidentally, I may have already saved Bruce Springsteen’s life in 1992 with a
phone call that was broadcast over WABC radio when I urged his friends to tell
him to get away from Stephen King, who he was hanging around with then.
WABC is this hemisphere’s biggest radio talk show venue out of New York City.
In fact Bruce and Stephen King WERE rehearsing on the same stage and sharing
company over cocktails and at concerts.
I expressed my concern that he was on the governments hit list and that
King might kill him the way he killed Lennon.
They have never been seen together since, to my knowledge.
Just a footnote before I get into the My Beliefs section of this chapter.
I am a very lucky guy and more than brains and talent explain my find.
When I was about twelve my father sat us kids down to teach us to play poker
for the first time. My very first poker hand ever dealt to me was a Royal
Flush. My usually unflappable father sat dumbfounded for about ten seconds
before he collected himself to say; “Kids, this is what is called a Royal
Flush.” It was dealt after five shuffles and two cuts between five players,
my siblings and my father, right off the bat, my first ever poker hand.
A lot of other amazing things that could only be attributed to amazing luck
have occured throughout my life that I won’t go into right now. I am convinced,
however, in fate and God’s hand in my life.
I would like to say this though; When I was about 12 years old I decided to
sleep out in our backyard for a change. I was looking up at the stars when I
saw a monstrously huge meteorite streak directly over Healdsburg, Ca. heading
towards the Hawaiian Islands.
It was as large as Mount Shasta and nearly hit the earth. Its streak took up
one sixth of the visible sky and was going so fast it was all the way to Hawaii
in one second. If I had blinked I would have missed it. I had never heard of
a sighting like I saw. There is no way we would all still be here if it had
hit the earth. I have never seen anything so incredible or amazing in my life.
I KNOW of just how dangerous a situation we are all in. Perhaps, because I
know this about the power of outer space and our fragile place in it, I am
less inclined to be a silent, apathetic sinner than most. I believe the
best insurance is for us to behave. I believe that God has wrath.
I am convinced that a large asteroid took out the dinosaurs. Absolutely.
MY BELIEFS;
If I sounded a little too boastful up to now don’t blame me. I have lots of views
and opinions that may seem hard to swallow, beside the Lennon murder evidence
and what it proves. I want you to take it seriously as I believe I am correct.
The media has poisoned most of you to think I am a whacko “Theorist”.
That is not the case. I AM credible.
I have suffered for two decades figuring out all that I am about to tell you.
It is vital information and I had to let you know, up front, that either I am
a genius or society is a blind fool, or, perhaps, a little of both.
First and foremost I want to impress upon all of you that a government like
ours who would let horror writer Stephen King to kill the most beautiful
human on earth, John Lennon, is our ENEMY!!!
This is how you should KNOW that you can’t trust the Republicans or even
the Democrats or the media. This is how you should KNOW that you are in the
hands of people who want to destroy you. People who don’t believe in free-
dom, free speech, heroes or democracy. People who want to poison and
cripple all of you. People who think of all of you as Guinea Pigs in some sick
Orwellian experiment.
If you can’t comprehend this fact, denial is not a river in Egypt.
I believe that all of you have never yet learned the value of keeping your
heroes alive. It’s the one thing you don’t do that is the root cause of almost
all your misery and strife. Instead you make the government your hero,
your leader, and you wonder why most of you slave away over half of your
waking life working at a job you wouldn’t do if not for the money. You wonder
why your divorce rate is higher than your marriage success rate, why teen
suicide has tripled in the last two decades, why gangs and street violence are
creeping into your lives, why the environment and our bodies are becoming pol-
luted like never before and why it takes two, instead of one, paycheck to
make ends meet today.
You have never learned to keep your heroes alive and lead you.
We all killed J.F.K.,R.F.K.,M.L.K., John Lennon, etc.. with our BEHAVIOR.
I believe our working class misery takes some perverse enjoyment in kil-
ing those who are better than us.
The government uses your sado/masochism against you.
The government knows you won’t respond appropriately and they take over.
Nixon expressed his concern that the media elite might replace the politi-
cians someday. That is what should be happening, people.
Politics means; “More at police” according to Webster’s dictionary.
If you call yourselves proud Americans who believe in freedom then why do you
bow down to the barrel of the gun? Why can’t you practice what you preach?
I’m convinced that only I am brave where it counts. That only I am free in the
true sense of the word and that all of the rest of you are like the characters
in The Wizard of Oz; looking for courage, brains, a heart and a home. Still
marching down the yellow brick road (Money), getting sidetracked with drugs and
looking up to the City of Oz and the Wizard;(The government and the president)
to solve all your problems.
How do we know which heroes to follow? Is Michael Moore or Madonna trustworthy?
They both back Wesley Clark. If they had been more diligent they would know
that his past is linked with Nixon and Reagan and would know better than to
support him. They are naive, in my opinion, and should be given more time to
grow before we put our trust in their hands.
Believe me, I wholeheartedly embrace everything else I know about Michael
Moore and that he and Madonna have our best interest at heart. But it is the
rare celebrity, like John Lennon, that we are looking for. And why hasn’t
one come along since? Could it be they have been scared off by all of your
apathy and hypocracy and dismal record?
John Lennon was that one true hero who was not swayed by his cushy lifestyle.
He never sold out or lost his courage because he had all the trappings of
wealth and fame. His instincts were spot on. It was he who tagged Nixon as
“Tricky Dicky” He knew more than the collective wisdom of the entire human
race, in my opinion.
There is a reason his murder caused more suicides than any other in history.
We lost our most important citizen, the ONE who had the courage, wisdom and
fame to lead us away from Big Brother.
I believe that I represent as good a hope as you’ve got to turn things around.
As such I am the one the goverenment wants to kill most of all. If you think that
conceated observe McCartney, still hiding behind his family and wealth,
to chicken to take a stand for us. The same applies to everyone else I know.
It takes supreme courage, not conceit, to pick up where Lennon left off.
And now, some of my hard opinions about why America is NOT a democracy, is NOT
free, NOT brave or even dignified.
I believe that the Rockefeller family runs America more than the president and
Congress does. They own all the Chevron gas stations, Standard Oil and more.
Many of our biggest magazines, including the ones that carry my Lennon evidence
are printed in Rockefeller Plaza, New York.
There are other billionairs that own our politicians but none as powewrful
as the Rockefeller dynasty.
In fact he is so powerful you almost never see his name in print or in the
media. He owns it.
Even Al Gore was owned by a large oil company. I am convinced that
he lost to Bush on purpose in 2000.
I have met most of the last democratic candidates in the past two decades
and I know they are actors of the most dispicable deceit. Only the
Republicans are worse. We are a mess, people.
I believe that this war in the mid east is the work of these oil barons
that really run our country and military. I believe that 9-11 was enhanced
with demolition expolosives to absolutely bring those towers down to
sucker punch the public into supporting a war in the oil rich mid east.
I think the attack was known about well in advance and allowed to happen.
There is a reason we are not liked by most of the world today, including those
who used to worship us and everything we once stood for.
The point I’m making is that we have become phony, scared, weak fascists who
are too afraid to defend ourselves from the evil politicians who let Stephen
King murder John Lennon! That I can prove.
The killers face, alleged name and letter to the editor linking Reagan, all
found in print weeks before the murder and the coded cryptography in the
headlines and the writings of King and Nixon associated with those codes,
fails to move any of you into revolt or outrage. THAT is the outrage that
America and its people have become.
Ever since J.F.K. was killed we’ve become yellow bellied hypocrites.
What kind of message does that send? That we will turn coat, that we are
cowards who will run, that we are untrustworthy, ultimately. All phonies.
That makes us less safe from our enemies. All this flag waving since 9/11
is just so much sucking our thumbs using the flag as our security blanket.
America, right or wrong, is a cowardly gesture. If you were really free
and brave you would stand up to the Bush dynasty that probably LET 9/11 happen.
You would not allow one family to own the presidency and two governorships
simultaniously. You would not allow 2.8% of our poululation, the Jews, to
CONTROL 80% OF THE MEDIA. But we are phonies. But you are not truly
American in practice.
To be frank, people who tell their children that Chapman shot Lennon and that
he was arrested on the scene, tried and sentenced and jailed are too simple
minded, naive, and sinful to be good parents. Yes it sounds ludicrous, all that
I claim, especially that King pulled the trigger and is free to molest all
of you now, but it is clear and provable to anyone with an average I.Q..
I believe most of my detractors are cowardly, jealous sinners who know not
how foolish they are.
Can any of you afford to be ignorant, narrow minded boobs now that I have lifted
the veil, now that 20 years have passed without a single denial from King?
Don’t you think it cowardly to let the government try to mow King down
with a van and then kill the unsuccessful driver a year later? Don’t you
think it foolish to suck your thumbs and hide behind a huge, evil lie and
give the government a chance to cover this news up by killing me or King?
It should alarm all of you to know that at the height of my frustration with
the sinful public I prayed for an asteroid to take us out to spare us the
shame of living like slobs under evil.
Six hours after I prayed that, before a witness, the first plane hit the
World Trade Center Tower.
I made that prayer at midnight Sept. 11, 2001, Pacific time.
Do I have pull with the Almighty? It’s the only time I ever prayed that.
Do I just feel the worlds evil more?
I’ll bet most of you don’t know that Mohammed Atta and his parter, the two
leaders of the attack on 9/11, were in a hotel room in Portland, Maine, Step-
hen King’s birthplace, hours before the attack.
And now some other truths I want to uncover.
I believe that our presidential elections are rigged. I am convinced from my
in person meetings with most of the Democratic presidential candidates over the
past two decades that they have lost on purpose and not on accident.
Regarding this 2004 election you should know that Wesley Clark is closely tied
to the Nixon, Reagan wing of our government that has proven itself to be our
satanic enemy as the circumstances of John Lennon’s murder bear out.
Furthermore he is the “Military/ Industrial Complex” former general that Eisen-
hower warned us about. I think he is running to lose.
You should also know that John Kerry is a fellow member of The Skull and Bones
Society that president Bush and his father are members of. It is rumoured that
that Society partially runs America.
Regarding Howard Dean, I have heard that he is the Dean of the Dean/Witter
financial empire. Sounds too establishment for me. Maybe he is legit but
I don’t know.
Joseph Lieberman is a big supporter of Bush’s war in Iraq. He is a Jewish
mouthpiece for the state of Israel.
Gebhart has just dropped out but I consider him to be an obedient monkey for
the establishment as well.
John Edwards is almost too good looking to be trusted and I don’t think he
plans to defeat Bush if nominated. Perhaps he is legit but I don’t know.
The only candidate I trust to actually try to BEAT Bush, if nominated, is the
one the mass media has already marginalized with false poll statistics and de-
rogetory treatment; Dennis Kucinich.
The media has brainwashed all of you away from the one good man running.
I don’t embrace everything he stands for but most all of it.
I predict that Bush will be rigged into office this November because none of
the viable Democratic candidates want to really beat Bush, that they are
merely taking us for a ride,. That they are willing to lose on purpose.
Naturally I urge all of you readers to organize rally’s in front of media
stations to out my Lennon expose if you REALLY want to stop Bush.
If you don’t and Bush is elected, it was your fault for not trusting me.
I think that Bush and his party and the people who run him ARE EVIL and
want to destroy American freedom and the country I was raised in. That they
want you to be as obedient and as stupid as the people of the former Soviet
Union were and still are. That they put corporate Darwinism ahead of
everything America should stand for.
Did you know that Colin Powells son Michael in the president of the F.C.C.?
Did you know that Clear Channel Media, one of the biggest, won’t allow Lennon’s
song Imagine to be played on their radio stations?!
Did you know that 80% of our mass media is controlled by Jews, by Israel?!
It’s all true.
Did you know that the media knew, in advance, that they could brainwash all of you
to not even notice that Chapman would completely skip trial for what
he did?!
Do you people know that the same messenger the media has been branding as
a whacko/stalker is really an American hero with, perhaps, the biggest bomb-
shell news in modern time?
I believe and I can prove, not only that Nixon and Reagan and Stephen King
all murdered John Lennon in a political conspiracy, but also that Time, News-
week and U.S. News and World Report magazines are linked with our C.I.A.
and document coded messages via headlines in the issues surrounding Dec. 08,
1980 that plug into the Lennon assassination.
I believe and can also prove that the judges, wardens, prison guards and cast
of go betweens to paint the Chapman lie are liars and actors reading from script.
I believe and can prove that Chapman is a fraud too. That he did NOT kill
Lennnon and is just an actor working for big oil, apparently, considering his
father’s executive job with Amoco Oil.
I believe and can prove that the entire mass media IS a conspiracy and act as
one, operating under the pleasure of the government and the military. That
they mind control you more than you CAN know. That they do not wish
you health and well being but want to malign you instead.
The fact that I have been largely ignored for over twenty years, with my hard
evidence, by my fellow Americans is proof the media’s campaign to malign all of
you is working.
THAT SHOULD SCARE THE HELL OUT OF ALL OF YOU!!!!!!!!!! Not some hunch-
backed, geek, horror writer who belongs in jail for murder.
As I write this chapter Mel Gibson’s movie; The Passion is about to debut.
Here we are, two thousand plus years after killing Christ, not only letting the
evil government kill the smart guy and all the hope he promised
again, but we’re letting a horror writer get away with being the triggerman?
It’s enough to beg the question “Did Jesus die in vain?”
It’s almost as if the government has managed to rachet up its book of evil.
How can you people stand for this? How can you step aside and let the govern-
ment molest you like this? How can you turn your backs on John Lennon after
all the goodness and music he gave you?
How can you sit on your hands now, an election year, when so much is at
stake, when you could be breaking this, the biggest expose ever revealed in
modern time? An expose custom tailored for the baby boomer’s clout.
Must I break it all by myself? Is that even possible?
I think I need a self respecting U.S. public behind this message, picketing
media outlets.
What do all of you think??
DEC 8 RALLY 2014
As if you clowns care, and while America could use a hero like me to reform our police, and
for what it’s worth, I’ll be needing demonstrators at the intersection of Ingraham and Garnet
Ave. in Pacific Beach, California (Blocks from my discovery site in 1982) from noon until dark.
(Hey, keep reading. Rally date is over, but…)
That’s this Monday. Show up or lose out on the revolution that only breaking this story can
unleash. Will at least two dozon brave Americans please show up and support my crusade?
Don’t have signs? I have extras. Just please show up and don’t wait for a crowd to join.
Just be a leader, like me, and take action.
Pacific Beach is just north of San Diego some several miles and can be accessed by taking the
I-5 to the Garnet Ave. exit for a mile west, approximately, until you reach Ingraham Street.
Show up and we WILL change the world.
AFTERMATH: I showed up and displayed my huge signs; (Sign 1, side A:) LENNONMURDER-
TRUTH.COM; (Side B:) DUPED PUBLIC SAW NO TRIAL.
(Sign 2, side A:) AUTHOR, STEPHEN KING MURDERED JOHN LENNON;EVIDENCE PROVES
(Side B;) ABUSE YOUR CHILDREN WITH A MARK CHAPMAN LIE
Try flipping those two signs in various sequences and you know which community is now the
hippest, most progressively informed on earth. Too bad they have yet to find my courage and act.
Speaking of which; if the Berkeley protesters still raising a ruckus want to get results they’ll
HAVE TO put my website address on their billboards or find themselves ignored by the author-
ities who know Berkeley is just acting out and not really serious about world change.
Man up to avenging John Lennon, people, or eat crow.
Just days before the Fergussen grand jury announcement was made I was IN Berkeley, present-
int the signs already described. It was the only time in years I’ve been there doing that
since I moved to southern California.
My current four foot long bumper sticker reads;
UGLY PUBLIC PRO COVER-UP!
I may replace it, soon, with a new slogan;
DEMAND DISCLOSURE, DUMMIES!
If I want to make everybody squirm I might even put up; “WEAK, SILENT McCARTNEY”
or maybe; “YOU APATHETIC COWARDS” or; “CHAPMAN LIE = CHILD ABUSE” or; “HOW
DARE YOU NOT CARE” or;”DISCLOSE THIS OR GO HOME”
I’m still deciding. “UGLY PUBLIC PRO COVER-UP” says it all in the meantime.
When I started this expose I had no idea how stupid the mass consciousness was. I had no
idea that people wanted to protect their government over themselves. I’m still in shock.
I think it’s important for all of you to know that it is your own pure, human evil that wants
to lick the government boot that kicked you all in the ribs in the first place. It is your
own pure, human evil that wants to look away from the trousers behind the curtain.
Many of you reflexively dismiss me as a nut. Again, your own original sin at work.
FERGUSEN DEMONSTRATIONS;
It’s November 29, 2014 and the demonstrations, not riots, you’ll notice, in the Fergusun, Mis-
souri matter are showing public support for a cause. I say it’s the growing sense of danger
all Americans are sensing in living with America’s police today with all the cop on citizen
murders that never used to happen in such numbers ever before in our history.
Now, if they had as much enthusiasm for who killed John Lennon and banded behind me they’d
have a huge celebrity on their side to speak FOR them in a way that mattered and my celebrity
status would multiply their efforts a million fold. Of course they’d have to break my story,
first, or I’d never get the notoriety it takes to weild so much power. Who can deny how big
a celebrity anyone would be after jailing Stephen King for murdering John Lennon and pulling
down the temple of corrupt government on top of all their heads? He’d be a super-mouthpiece
kind of celebrity. And I think the cause is good and worth protesting over. But Fergusen
protesters need me as much as I need them to get real results. Otherwise they will all shoot
their wads, tire out and go home leaving behind a still Pentagon run national police force
that leans towards terrorism and fascism.
Think about that, protesters. Who you gonna call? McCowardly? No other celeb’s gonna help you.
Who will put ME on their shoulders so I can help all of you?
As for Bill Cosby.
It’s been the year of the comedian, 2014. All kinds of Robin Williams, Joan Rivers, and even
Tracy Morgan crazy stuff going on, all with comedians, this year. It’s almost like biblical
signs before something big happening. What could that be?
Stephen King has never denied my claims, ever. Not once. Nor will he. He knows that, indeed,
“EVERYBODY KNOWS WHAT HE DID!” If he or Bill Cosby were to deny what they are
being accused of then they would outrage an already outraged public.
Keep quiet, Bill. It’s been working for Stephen King.
As for the public. Don’t drive Bill Cosby to suicide as comedians are already living on the
humanitarian edge, anyway. He’s already said, on stage; “They (the women) were all jealous
of me but I set mySELF up! I’m a terrible person. ” as he buried his face in his hands.
We should all be ashamed that King isn’t in jail by now after all my activism and evidence.
Oh, I have a new bumper sticker slogan idea for my website van; SCREWING UP YOUR
COVER-UP!”
What do you all think?
My family taught me you’re all evil;
“You’re all evil as can be
Who taught me? My family.
They were first to see the facts
They were first to turn their backs.
Evil as can be
Evil as can be….”
I may finish that song someday and humble my sinful family with it over their jealous, boot-
licking posture regarding me and my activism. Lately my youngest brother, Michael, has been
avoiding my phone calls, apparently, to spite me over my severing of ties with my younger sister
who let me know in 2008 that I deserved to have her 6’6″ boyfriend sucker punch me in 1972
when I was loaded down with golf gear which resulted in a catastrophic tooth loss years later.
My mother has been shunning me for over a dozon years, besides. I’ll reserve my other younger
brother’s childhood mistake for later it’s so terrible.
I did scant little at all to deserve any of this.
They ALL OWE ME a huge apology for resenting my heroic expose and have until next week to
contact me or deal with full disclosure of their other sins as well, in public, right here.
Elvis Presley had a similar relationship with his siblings and his jealous Tupelo Mississippi
peers broke his nose, twice, before he escaped with his life. It’s a common sin in all of you;
throwing banana peels in front of any hero, but especially one who exposes the government
and refuses to lick its boots.
What’s wrong with my own flesh and blood is also wrong with all of you. A bumper sticker
that reads; “YOU APATHETIC U.S. A-HOLES” would be an accurate flat mirror for you all.
If they are too jealous and prideful to contact me then all of you will know just how sick
my own family is regarding my expose. For your benefit as well as theirs.
They have been notified of how to avoid disclosure.
Stay tuned, fellow sinners.
The purpose of this is to educate all of you as well as my own family to your wicked ways
and why all of you must arrest your ways now. If I am willing to strip my own family naked
to make a point I hope everyone concerned will shed their apathy and moral laziness and,
especially, their boot-licking fear of their government which means more to you than you
mean to yourselves.
If this resort does not impress upon all of you the weight of my sincerity then you are
all beyond reason and any words.
Getting primed for the expose to come, let me start by quoting John Lennon’s song ‘Mother’;
“Mother, you had me but I never had you
I wanted you, you didn’t want me…
Father, you left me but I never left you
I needed you, you didn’t need me…”
John was a ‘Saturday Night Special’ one conceived out of mere sparks in the night, an accident,
unplanned and coincidental. When he was given the chance to choose who he wanted to be with
he chose his mother only to be dumped on his aunt, promptly.
I think John wanted to be loved so much by someone that he reached out to all of us and
wrote songs to make us love him. That that was his motivating force.
I was, certainly, more loved by my parents, yet I was the nail in my father’s bachelor shoe
being first born. He was open about it, too, but was a good father, regardless. My mother
was, also, a loving, good mother, though I doubt I was her favorite or least favorite.
There was sibling rivalry among us four kids though I believe I was loving and kind as
I could be, usually. When I shone at reading while my younger brother didn’t I wished he
could be up to my speed, sincerely. I’d punch my brothers in the shoulder a lot, but in a
normal way. They are broader shouldered than me so they should thank me.
All of my brothers and me were a little innattentive to our sister, Laura, and she never
complained or let on. She suffered in silence while the boys did their boyish things without
her being included. That WAS a little thoughtless, I suppose. Thankfully she had a few girl-
friends up the block to be friends with. I suppose that that was the main thing I’d have
redone but we were all a victim of circumstances.
One day my best friend, feeling sorry for us one day, played a song by Jimmy Rogers (?)
‘Child Of Clay’ The lyrics went;
“Into this world he was sent by parents who were ignorant,
Deprived of love and rocked by fear, a feeling that the end is near
And the father thinking work comes first aint got the time to quench a thirst…”
and so on. And, yet, it all seemed hunky dory to me and I know I was loved by my parents.
They were born in the Depression and worshipped money to a fault and were stern disiplin-
arians who used the belt but I felt all was well. It was all I knew. I’m sure they did the
best they knew how. True love may not have been part of my parents lives but they did seem
to like each other. Not unlike a lot of married couples. I think my life was rela-
tively normal.
Of course, it was not.
Now, the questions that will linger after the following disrobing of my own family life ex-
perience are; Did my brothers try to murder me with a 22 caliber rifle from over 100 yards?
Yes, just grazing my right ear when I was in my mid teens.
Did my sister let her 6’6” boyfriend into my parents house to ambush and assault me resulting
in the loss of my molar years later and the demise of their relationship months later?
Yes. : Did my father, who died in a small ski lift airplane in 1984, attempt to kill our
whole family while flying his airplane near Lake Tahoe in the late 60’s? Maybe. Or maybe he
was trying to scare us.; Did my mother have anything to do with the deaths of my father,
her subsequent boyfriend, later, and her last husband, again, years after that? Doubtful, but
curious, nonetheless.; Was my minor physical deformity at birth, a smaller left calf and foot,
the result of bad prenatal care or bad luck? Was it possibly from an attempt to stop my birth?
Am I sounding ludicrous? Perhaps, but my family has a lot of curious facts that might not all
be coincidence. Certainly they persecuted me for being the smartest, most gifted member of
our family.
Now, while all of you catch your breath, let me preface the following expose with Gandhi’s
famous quote;
“Great spirits are always persecuted by mediocre minds.”
And, lest all of you readers try to distance yourselves from the hidiousness of it all, know
that you are ALL related to me and all of you are just as wicked when it comes to how people
who are gifted are mistreated. That there is a sicknes in all of mankind that wants to find
punishment for those who are better than the mass. That’s right, better than the mass.
As the only one of all of you asking questions about that murder of John Lennon that was
never even explained with so much as a public trial for his alleged killer I AM BETTER
than ALL of you. BETTER. a Better man. Period. I may not be better at a lot of other things
but I am a better man than the rest of you where it counts; human decency and wisdom. If
anyone is in a position to trump your collective wisdom and lead you it is me. I really do
know better.
If the rest of you were even good people then the landscape that is your past wouldn’t be so
strewn with the bodies of heroes you’ve martyred in the name of just being weak, silent slobs;
Jesus, the most beautiful of all, whipped to shreds and nailed to a cross, a spear run through
his heart. Gandhi, a bullet to his head, John Lennon, four bullets to his back.
If I were not the kind who calls all of you out for your mistreament of me I’d have been
killed by now. All over your mass jealousy and fear of men and women of real virtue.
I know that, as sick as my family life may have been, they are no sicker than all of you.
First, let me say that there is much more than just the highlights I’ve already alluded to.
I just had to get that out of the way before any of my family, Joanne Bartell in Hawaii, Laura
Beery of Fresno, California, Paul Lightfoot of Santa Rosa, California and Michael Lightfoot of
Carmichael, California try to kill me before I finish this scathing report to follow.
Am I doing it to punish them for the torture and disrespect they meted out to me? Not really.
Am I doing it to reform and cure them? Mostly. In fact, I am mostly doing it to exorcise all
of mankind so you can help me come forward like you all should have done decades ago.
I will begin by saying what was right and good about all of the above characters;
My father, Philip Lightfoot, was a great man who raised a true hero. His biggest disappointment
was the slovenly nature of all of you. As a doctor he saw all of you at your self destructive
worst and remarked to me as a child; “80 % of the people out in the real world are slobs!…
As long as you kids live under my roof…”
He shot it to us straight and saw past the bullshit the rest of you tell each other about
how wonderful you all are. You’re not. My fathers efforts were not small in how he helped
us kids see life as it really was. His frustration became mine. He did a good job of trying
to be a good father in spite of his reluctance to be a father to begin with. He was a good
provider and never hit my mother, though he argued for about two years with her when I was
less than six years old. He lived in shacks with no electricity in North Dakota while attending
medical school to make it in life and never complained. He had a lot of class and spirituality
and was a lover of humanity and the arts despite his disappointment with mankind. He was
so great in so many ways. He was human and full of faults but he was a magnificent example
of nobility and royalty too. I’m proud he was my dad. He was a philosopher who tried to
find humor in life and enjoy life.
My mother was a good mother. She was kind and tender and thoughtful and always there
when I must have sounded like a mosquito in her ear always asking questions about life. I can’t
say anything about my first three years of life that I don’t remember but I had a happy
childhood and can’t fault her very much at all for those years. I suppose she also helped
raise a hero and she formed my personality more than I used to give her credit for. Indeed,
she played as large a role in shaping me as my father did. After I discovered my Lennon
murder evidence calling things changed. We had a huge difference of opinion about that, but,
mostly, she was a fine mother and I’m proud of her, too.
Laura? As the one girl, she was left out of the boys goings on and that gang and she was
adorable and modest and uncomplaining and sweet in the midst of her being overlooked by
us boys, I guess. She was quiet, uncomplaining and I wished I was more aware then at what a gift
of a sister she really was. One tragic day while being included in the boys gang activity
we were surprised by two teens with a rifle who threatened to shoot us all, even telling each
other; “Go get the bow and arrow.” We were all not even four years old and ran, zig jagging,
down the hill for our terrified lives. She got her legs caught in the spokes of a friends
bicycle in the frenzy and carried the scars for years. That kind of put an end to joining
our reindeer games. It was nobody’s fault. It was just a tragic day that put a distance be-
tween the boys and her inclusion in our adventures. It was our first exposure to the dark side
of people, too. Shame on those bastard teenagers for that. Who were their parents? The ensuing
wedge between us boys and her inclusion in our lives first showed signs of resentment when
she asked to borrow my skateboard and left it out for the neighbors to steal years later.
That wasn’t her fault, either, though. Just human nature. Right up to an episode, many
years later with her boyfriend who rampaged against me she was a great sister who I loved
a lot.
My two brothers, Paul and Mike; There’s a lot to say. We were a pack of testosteroned out
siblings engaged in rivalry, for sure. I was the oldest and boldest and smartest and firstest
and surest and I was unaware of just how cock sure of myself I must have been, then, and how
that played against me in the battleground of sibling rivalry. I, perhaps, enjoyed my suc-
cesses too much for their liking and may have poisoned what could otherwise have been a better
relationship all around. Having said that they were fun to be around and we reveled in all
things that brothers could enjoy. They were a big part of my life and childhood, for sure.
We did a lot together; trained hawks, caught snakes, made plastic models, took hikes, enjoyed
the local river, hunted birds with our pellet guns, golf, etc.. Guy stuff. Paul was a little
slower than I in school – who wasn’t – and I hated to see how my dad would terrorize him
over homework to catch up. It really bothered me. I suppose the seeds of resentment against me
were born there but that wasn’t even his fault, either. I was a tough act to follow.
As is often the way with humans puberty and hormonal changes and becoming adults managed
to change things and whatever strains there were that might have existed became amplified.
I will stick to the area regarding how all of you and even my own family are loathe to
give a hero his due. I will get a little off into the weeds but will try to stay on subject.
Let’s begin with the beginning, my birth. I was born with the umbilical chord wrapped ar-
round my neck and my lower legs were one size different. It could have happened in a tumble
my mother claims happened while getting out of her boss’s car when she tumbled head over
heels or in a car accident as my brothers said she told them. That would be the good news.
If my birth wasn’t planned and measures were made to head that off then that would be bad.
I just don’t really know.
I believe I was still in my mother’s womb when my parents took a rubber raft trip down the
Colorado or Green River rapids, some of the largest rapids in America. That would at least
explain my adventurousness.
I noticed in photos of me before age three that I was happy except in photos where my sister
was also present. I was bawling and miserable, in fact, my sister and mother beaming and happy.
Was I just rudely awakened to the fact that I had to share my parents love with someone else
or were there other reasons I was night and day before and after Laura was born? I don’t know.
I was a trouble free baby who stopped bed wetting right away and was little trouble.
I took the top drawer in a dresser that served as our communal crib(s) and moved a lot
from state to state while my dad attended medical school, settling in northern California by
age four. Dad, Mom and four kids. Cloverdale to Healdsburg very quickly.
I was completely normal until my academic prowess caught the attention of my mentors who
let me know I was special, indeed. I was lecturing the eigth graders as a second grader about
dinosaurs, even offered a speaker’s platform. Though I seemed like the only kid who didn’t know
how to read my first day of first grade I was books ahead of the class in no time having learned to
read from ‘Treasure Island’ at my father’s knee.
I was also, absolutely, the best artist in the whole school, hiding my work with my hands
to avoid the gawks of the other classmates.
Learning that I was gifted from even high school superindentants perhaps gave me a big head
but I resented that fact. I missed being normal, a lot. I was happiest out of school catching
lizards, butterfly’s and just being a kid. I had an interest per year, it seemed. Indians,
snakes, W.W.II airplanes and ships. An intense interest, one at a time, my whole childhood.
A year before The Beatles hit the music scene I was riding around on my Sting Ray with a
portable radio glued to my head everywhere I went. I recall how one day nobody knew who they
were and the next day EVERYBODY knew they were about to play on the Ed Sullivan show.
It was absolutely electrifying! Right after the murder of John Kennedy, these four guys just
giving the world a whole new brand of something great and happy and hopeful, girls screaming
that anyone could be so good as a band. Screaming that any human was that amazing let
alone four, at once, all gelling so perfectly, the voices complimenting each other so well,
the greatness of John Lennon’s voice shining through, like a brand new friend, it was as
if God, himself, was putting on a show.
That was the night America got pulled up off the asphalt its face was on from Dallas.
Life was good, again! Wow!, Wow!!!, W-O-W-!!!!
Their music was origional with a nakedness and joy and thoughtfulness that so touched me at
times that I remember having to pull my bike over the first time I heard “If I Fell” because
I was crying too much to see where I was going. Really genius stuff.
Hearing all those origional songs for the very first time, then, was the gift of a lifetime.
I feel sorry for anyone who wasn’t alive then to catch it all fresh. They were my favorite
band, absolutely. Prior to them I remember noticing songs like “Catch A Falling Star”,
“Tom Dooley”, “Gloria”. “You Really Got Me” and Peter, Paul and Mary songs from my dad’s
album collection.
Simon and Garfunkel were the torch carriers of classy writing and melody before The Beatle’s
and The Beach Boys were amazing, too.
Perhaps the cleanest, free’est, most worryless time of my life was then. All was golden.
I recall seeing in my reflection a face for all peoples. I saw a celebrity in me, even then.
I will sound like I’m bragging a lot here but I’m not. I believe in fate and purpose and
luck. I remember noticing that I was the only person I knew who thumbed through Time
magazines back to front, reading just the headlines, and even recall asking myself “What’s
THAT all about, Steve?”
When my father taught us kids how to play poker for the very first time, after five shuffles and
two cuts, with four kids and my dad, I was dealt a royal flush right off the top, my very first,
ever hand dealt to me, no add ons. Right from the first deal. My dad had a moment of dis-
belief that caught him speechless and motionless for about ten seconds, wondering, no doubt,
“What on earth is my first born son up to and where do his fates lie?” I’ll always recall
his remark to us when he finally caught his breath to say; “Kids, this is what is known as
a royal flush.” I believe it was in clubs. Still, pretty ominous cards. It might have been
spades but I think clubs. They were black. I saw a pattern and asked my dad “What should I do?”
In contrast, my brother Paul was a little slow in his grasp of reading and math, compared to
me, and I recall my dad knocking him out of his chair helping with his homework one night.
It made me sick and made me feel more sorry for my dad than even Paul. How can anyone learn
anything under so much fear and punishment? It wasn’t right and I hated it. I also hated it
when bullies throwing rocks at us two actually hit Paul with one rock bringing me to tears.
I always had the first everything; bike, you name it. I was the oldest and my brothers got
used to getting my hand me downs.
Paul now claims that I once borrowed his bike and left it behind and kids dented it. It
doesn’t make sense as I had my own, but it’s possible. I don’t recall.
It wasn’t too long after that that my brother’s both set out to kill me with my dad’s Ithica
.22 rifle with scope. Paul and I went hunting and I took the .410 shotgun and he the .22.
We split up and, about an hour later, while sitting down and eating a banana, I felt something
graze my right ear. I heard it, too. I looked to my right and saw a single blade of straw rock-
ing back and forth and a small puff of dirt rise. While wondering if it was a bullet I then
heard the loud report a few seconds later. I quickly processed that Paul must have just tried
to kill me and, amazingly, just as quickly, forgot about it, entirely, for over a dozon years.
Denial is not just a river in Egypt. There’s proof, all you readers, how it works. Something
you don’t want to believe or wrap your mind around one just denies.
It wasn’t until my youngest brother, Mike, tried to cheat me regarding something in my dad’s
estate after his death that I suddenly recalled, fifteen years later, what my other brother
did with that rifle when I was about 15. I might have been 16 but I would already have been
dating my first girlfriend, then. One more reason to resent me? I don’t know.
Only this week did I learn that it was Michael, not Paul, who pulled the trigger then.
That means they would have both conspired to meet up, knowing I would be hunting that day.
What did I ever do to piss Michael off?! I have no idea. Sibling rivalry gone wild? Was
my light so bright that they felt small and jealous in its wake? I think that was it.
When I confronted Paul about it in the mid eighties thinking it was him he said something
about that bike I let get dented. Doesn’t add up. He never ratted Mike out, though.
I recall telling Mike about it just a few years ago and he said; “It was me.” He said it
twice. I thought he wasn’t making sense then. Now, just this last week, knowing that I would
be airing the family laundry because Michael was avoiding my phone calls for weeks, Paul
said; “Mike said it was him.” I believe it now.
So this airing of laundry helped flush out the truth. What a crazy truth that I never would
have figured out any other way.
So, you see, people? Aren’t my brothers a little bit like all of you? Jealous of the hero?
Cain vs Able? My only real crime was getting the lions share of good genes in our family.
Yes, I was a little tyrannical and gloating and bossy at times, thanks to my dads dishing
out the same to us all but, mostly, it wasn’t about that as much as my bright light out-
shining theirs.
This theme is recurring and this is what this expose is all about; to let you all see the phe-
nominon you are all part of in stalling my story with apathy and innaction. You are re-
sentful that I have the golden egg and not you. No matter that you will all benefit.
If it can’t be you then damn any messenger who might have the balls and brains you lack.
It’s the reason Stephen King shot John Lennon; jealousy. The reason Nixon killed the Kennedy’s,
the reason Cain killed Abel. I’m here to point out your sickness as a species.
With a touch of irony and karma as stunning as my father dying in a plane crash on a mountain
decades after almost taking us all out in a plane into mountains near Lake Tahoe, Michael
received the worst belt spanking any of us kids ever received over not putting the same
rifle scope he used to shoot me on straight after my dad noticed he had taken it off to
use as a scope to watch birds with.
This was a few years after that and, well, how could my father have even known except for
subconscious instinct? Very puzzleing.
The family story of tormenting Steve for his prowess continues;
As a junior in high school Dick Nixon – that’s right – my geometry teacher, told us on the
first day of class; ‘No one has ever trisected an angle with just a compass and straight edge.”
I thought; “Well, how hard can that BE?” A few weeks later, after learning how to to the
same with a line segment, I tried the same principles on an arc, or angle, and found a
distinctive bias; large, medium and small. I, right away, decided to reverse the same bias,
only the other way. After establishing the exact point to start my butterfly, reverse image
on the opposite side I now had two equal arcs going in opposite directions, much like the
opposing plys on bias ply tires, and found two sets of large, medium and small divisions
making four instead of two marks on the arcs. Because one can bisect an arc I merely bi-
sected both sets of marks and, whala!, perfect trisection.
Mr. Nixon, when I made a trip to his house one night to show him, was stunned to see my
method worked on all angles, obtuse and acute, and told me I’d be famous if I could write
out why it works. Too much bother over something so ridiculously obvious and easy in the
first place. I had more exciting projects to do than math related jibberjabber.
In 1976 I recall Paul Harvey, the late radio announcer, telling the world about someone
solving the same thing just how I did it six years earlier and knew I must be a genius.
In fact, by then, my I.Q. scores ranged from 120 in gradeschool to 165, my last one in college.
That’s Einstein level sick, crazy, people. By the way, I beat Einstein and Newton in that
one area of math, or geometry, I suppose. And I did it in ten minutes, first try! You know
they all tried to do it and failed.
While having to toot my horn, now, in this regard, it should be mentioned that my S.A.T.
scores put me in the top 3% in language and the top 13% in math. The math part I guestimated,
frankly, as it’s not my schtick.
Again, I’m pointing out why it is that you, the public, hate admitting it when someone else has
a better answer than the masses and how it is a form of your insanity and self destruction.
I despise having to toot my own horn, really.
I’ll take this opportunity to include that, at the age of eight, I KNEW that the public’s
conformity of working a 40 hour week was, in itself, a form of mass insanity. It was my
very first independant thought that made me wonder about all of you. Are you all insane?
No wonder I was so into the native American Indian way of life in third grade, running around
my neighborhood in a loincloth and bow and arrow, etc. Modernity pales in comparison to
the way mankind lived for tens of thousands years. Money has enslaved and blinded you all.
Here I was, a doctor’s son, with a Lincoln and a boat in our driveway and I knew it was not
as good a life as the average Indian in the twelfth century. I KNEW it.
If John’s cause was peace and love then I found my calling at age eight; get away from the
modern slavery of commerce and materialism and reclaim that huge chunk of ones life you
give up to pay for it all. It’s NOT WORTH IT! I’ll discuss the details in another chapter
but, for now, just know that you’re all ADDICTED to your toilets and cell phones and pizza,
cars, planes, soft beds, etc.. You’ve forgotten what clean air and water and food were and
you’ve lost your spirituality, sanity and happiness. Life is an obstacle course of rules and
‘press one for…’ and frustration and B.S..
I absolutely won’t see the change in my lifetime but I will try to set aside federal land for
those who want to opt out of your modern, plastic madness and live with “no possessions,
no need for greed or hunger and a brotherhood of man.” Nothing manufactured, no commerce,
just self reliance and sustainability off of natures grandscape of riches.
Back to my origional thoughts and your hatred of heroes, or more accurately, your shame of
how you all have been highjacked by the ‘powers that be’:
In fact, in looking back on my sibling’s rivalry against me, I realize that it was their shame
of self as much as their jealousy of me that propelled them into acts of violence against me.
The worst thing I ever did to Mike was catch him masturbating once. That’s it. The worst
thing I ever did to my sister Laura was let her see me in the buff, once. That’s it.
Mostly, though, I was just setting the bar highter than they felt like reaching. They hated
my confidence and abilities. I wasn’t showboaty about it at all, really. It was just obvious.
I’m reminded of how Galilleo was tortured into retracting his notion that the earth revolved
around the sun and that the earth wasn’t flat. The people resented their own stupidity and had
a convenient scapegoat to hang their blame on; the one person who dared say; “The emporer
is naked.” Eons and eons of the same blame the smart guy routine. You’re all still killing Jesus;
letting the government kill the smart guy, aren’t you? Well I stopped in 1982. What about the
rest of all of you?
Did Jesus die in vain? Was anyone REALLY saved by his death? Or are you all just ashamed to
admit that you’re all still killing the smart guy in the name of descending to the lowest common
denominator? “That monkey is more evolved than us, let’s kill him.”
How else do you people account for your trail of blood from Jesus to Gandhi, to John Lennon and
several dozon other cultural heroes that pointed the way to living better? Shame and jealousy.
In an act similar to Ceasar killing all the first born sons to prevent the Messiah’s coming,
even my own mother’s sister, my aunt, who I met only maybe five times in my childhood, was out
to stop me, it seemed. When I was on the trail of a career in professional golf and doing well
enough to break par my first year she mailed me a book titled; “How To Lose At Golf” Can you
believe it!? Sibling rivalry gone mad, I guess. I was only second or third man on my high
school and college golf teams but, besides shooting a 68 my first year, Mike saw me shoot,
I believe, eight under, playing two balls per hole over nine holes, once. I had potential.
My moment of glory came in 1978 at the U.S. Amateur qualifying rounds when I found myself
one under after 31 holes and in third place only to choke when a large crowd came out of nowhere
to watch me. I bogeyed three of the last five holes to just miss a berth. Ironically, it was
on the exact same stretch and course where Jack Nicklaus choked in front of Bobby Jones
who came out to see the new sensation. Life’s weird and strange, isn’t it?
As for my list of abuses suffered after my brothers failure to squelch the ‘smart guy’ my
sister took her turn at bat in 1972 when I was put in charge of keeping order in our house
while my parents were away, vacationing in Mexico.
Laura was spraying perfume on Mike’s bed and, when I noticed the commotion, I gently pul-
led her by the arm out of his bedroom. Now was her big chance to get back at me for im-
printing her with my male physique that one time. Something most siblings go through, I think.
She called her 6’6”, maybe 6’7″, boyfriend, Frank, the tallest boy in our high school, to
come over and show me who’s boss. I was waiting with a hunting sock stuffed with a soap bar
but fled the scene when he broke down our front door. I ran next door and tried to call the
police but our neighbor refused to help call them. He ransacked the house and terrorized
my other brothers and I felt guilty about that for years, after. That I chose health over
standing down a drug induced madman.
I had to carry a water pistol with bleach in it to school for a while, in fact, my sister’s
need to punish me was so great. Eventually I was ambushed in our house at noon when my
sister let Frank into the house to cold cock me as I rounded the corner loaded with golf clubs
and my practice shag bag and shoes. I thought he broke my jaw at the time and just continued
to get into my ’68 Camaro and head to the golf course. I may have backed out and turned the
wheel to knock him away as I left and he arrived a half hour later to challenge me and my
driver as I collected my practice balls. He stayed a club length away knowing that I’d
let him have it if he tried to get any closer. Eventually he left.
Who knows what my sister was thinking, then. Frank tried to smooth things over with my dad
one day only to be thrown out in a headlock. Frank vandalized his office and that was the
end of my sister’s relationship with a disturbed man who had a history of beating his own
mother only to quickly make up right after.
Some good news came out of the whole episode, after all.
But a dozon or so years later that injured molar had to be extracted and the stupid dentist
broke my surrounding bone structure in the process. Now I have a prosthetic tooth that I
hand made to fill the unsightly gap. Every time I misplace it I’m reminded of my sister.
All these years I still used to visit her and her family with her husband never knowing that
she was glad I was injured. In 2008 she called to try and tell me that John Lennon may
have killed Stu Sutcliff of the first incarnation of the Quarry Men. I had to set her straight
and explain that the media is twisting reality and that John saved Stu’s life from the hood-
lems of the day who used to beat up The Beatle’s after their shows in Liverpool. had John not
rescued him that night he would have been killed. He died a year later of the injury.
It was during that conversation that I brought up why my tooth was lost and she told me I ;
‘…deserved it.” No apology. That was our last conversation. Good for me.
My sister was always looking to shoot my activism down, though. She was one of those hypo-
crites who hides behind her church services only to sin in her real life, at least about
siding with Lennon’s killer’s. So satanic she can’t even see it, herself.
Not unlike a lot of all of you, I dare say.
If I stood outside every church service in America with my emblazened van and magazine
and held up a sign that read;
“You satanic hypocrites!” The sign would fit. Can all of you admit that fact?
I’m always amazed at how obtuse people can be, though. How phony and weak they can be.
In spite of my academic prowess and 3.5 G.P.A. and offers from several state universities to
attend their schools after high school my parents kept quiet about that. After years of talk-
in a good game about going to Dartmouth or better they got very quiet when I left the house.
After taking a year off to work at a grocery store I put myself through one year of junior
college and went just one day to a creative writing class never to return because I was con-
vinced the teacher was a negative cynic. I never officially took my name off the roster
and nobody told me about that part of school. It would come up to bite me, years later, when
my shoe in status at San Jose State to major in golf course architecture was foiled over
the ‘academic F’ that class gave me. I was not allowed into San Jose State.
That turned ME into a cynic, suddenly. I put myself through another year of junior college
majoring in advertising, this time. The bitterness I harbored over my parents role in this
bad luck and academic neglet was not small. It took me many years to accept that I was un-
fairly disrespected and cheated, at one level. My parents were selfish with their money and
I had already proven myself unreliable when my dad found out that I had been having sex with
my high school girlfriend, the best one I ever had. He dreaded that I might end up like him;
held down from my dreams by a pregnancy. Pretty sick logic, I know.
If it weren’t for my parents hounding me away from Dorothy I’d have probably eventualy married
her and my life would have taken an entirely different course.
Semi abandoned after leaving the house at eighteen I resolved to go for a career in pro golf,
after all, and blitzed through dozons of cooking jobs between tournements. I found myself
back east, in Atlanta, Georgia in 1976 and met a troubled but beautiful girl there who
made a major dent in my life though I only knew her for a little over a month. A year
later I learned her real name, for example. Deep South problems that she brought to our
relationship that scarred me, terribly, just because I fell in love with her, rightly or wrongly.
Her unkindnesses were the result, I think, of her father’s abuses way before I met her and
I can’t blame her for being so crazy or put her in the same pool of jealousy others deserve.
It took me a long time to sort out those cobwebs, though.
Strangely, it was her fiery brand of crusaderism against the evils of her day that stuck with
me in 1982 when I knew that the government killed John Lennon and found myself sitting on
the sidelines like all of you readers. I powerful dream about her one night propelled me
into my local library near San Diego, one day, and the discovery was made. I had only dis-
covered government codes that linked Reagan and Nixon to John Lennon’s murder.
The abuses the public unleashed on me for going public, after, are biblical in scope and this
is the part of the story that involves all of you. My family, too, played their evil roles.
Before diving into this, the most exciting adventure of my life, or any life for that matter,
let me take this opportunity to show all of you how I was also, once, a little stupid and
scared like all of you.
I knew the government killed John Lennon and that the story about Chapman was a lie in
mere milliseconds. I am, after all, smarter than the average, mind controllable slob, anyway.
I lost my job at the Doubletree Inn as their fancy restaurant broiler cook – I was cooking
steak and lobster when I heard that John was killed – by telling the traveling executive
in a group meeting a week after the murder; ” …I may not share your value system but…”
subconsciously referring to the coverup evryone else was about to engage in. In fact, I went
through at least four jobs due to distraction over Lennon’s murder until I decided I needed a
little time off from society, in general. So far I’m still more decent and noble than all of
you – I’m sacrificing my job for some truth – and, yet, I’m still thinking like a small animal;
“the government never gets caught. I guess I’ll just have to live with a sicker, less beau-
tiful world, after all.” I was just like a lot of you. The ones who had the class and brains
to doubt the story about Chapman in the first place. Regarding the poor slobs who never even
questioned all that, well, someone once told me; “You can’t fix stupid.” I was not one of
those bnrainwashed fools, at least. And, yet, I was not willing to get off of my floored ass
and fight back. At least not yet.
What I DID do was store my possessions and sell my car and bought a 12 speed bike and took
off to San Diego to be a beach bum while, at the same time, hoping to get a golf sponser.
That was late 1981. I began living outdoors, my biggest bills being food and flat tires.
I bought a Sony Walkman – invented just in time – and did little else except ride around just
listening to The Beatles tapes before I became callous and stupid like most adults do. John
may be dead but his music was not about to be lost on me. How could I not find an extra
measure of courage to avenge him after listening to all that thrilling, beautiful, healing
music. I was getting up my courage one could say. But I was still a sick little animal under
the government’s boots, just like all of you. The main difference being that I jumped off of
the money go merry go round the rest of you were stuck on. It took, in fact, several months
of being flat broke, living on unemployment and doing without, that the grip of worshiping
money evaporated like a water balloon exploding in mid air. P-O-O-F-! All gone. No more grip on
me. I was now free to think higher thoughts and get in touch with my real humanity. I was
becomming sinfully happy and wild for once in my life. I was truly free. No worries, no
responsibilities. Just doing what I felt like doing. My mind was mine, now. It was great.
I was still a freeloading, small, scared animal doing nothing to avenge Lennon’s murder while
enjoying the fruits of his genius. Just selfish, irresponsible, lazy. A typical American.
Then John Balushi was killed. I remembered how Animal House made me realize, for the first
time, how oppressed I had always been. I laughed so hard when I saw that extremely subver-
sive, anti-establishment movie that riduculed the status quo and exalted the misfit rebels. A
few months later, while reading a magazine about Doug Kenny, the writer of Animal House,
who was also possibly killed that year, I suddenly stiffened up by back and realized that the
American Nightmare was still alive.
Now I really WAS pissed off with America and all the ice cream cone licking perverts around me
whose answer was to lick their wounds and just take it.
Years later I would learn that Cathelyn Evelyn Smith, Balushi’s killer, was in the same room
with John Lennon the night before he was killed. Now, months later, she is in the same room
killing John Balushi?!
Anyway, I read that article about Doug Kenny in the same, small Pacific Beach library that
would be the scene of my Lennon evidence discovery months later.
Not long after, I saw the last puzzle piece I needed; the tiny back page explanation of John
Lennon’s murderer, Chapman. A four by three inch summary of the biggest murder of our lives
buried in lower left hand section of the back pages. He plead guilty; “Because God told
me to…” What a crock of C.I.A. crap.” I thought. Two days before trial, behind closed doors.
From a 60 day psychiatric evaluation that turned into thin air for eighteen months of media
silence to this insult to our intelligence.
The government had crossed a line and I was primed for a change.
I had a boardwalk vendor make me a cardboard licence plate that read:
“U.S. GOVT. PLANNED JOHN LENNON’S DEATH”
I attached it to the back of my bicycle seat and rode around San Diego with that postage
stamp of a message for a few weeks. I was absolutely certain there was a coverup afoot.
I was suddenly an activist and I was not about to lie down any more and wait for more evil.
It came to a soul stirring climax in late July of 1982 when I was jolted awake in a sweat
over a dream I was having about that girl from Georgia. We had reconciled walking atop a
fence, our heads bowed, just holding hands. She was a firebrand of life and energy and I
knew she wouldn’t just be happy to listen to Beatles tapes and do nothing. I knew how grey
my life had become to be so complacent and beaten.
Two days later, while riding to the beach, like always, I found myself being controlled by
an invisible force steering me right, then left, now heading like a torpedo to that library.
I wrapped my lock so fast I knew something big was about to happen. A copy of Us magazine
with John and Yoko on it’s cover just happened to be the first thing I saw and I grabbed it. I
quickly read how the Nixon administration had tried to deport Lennon. I then grabbed all
the Time and Newsweek and anything else I could find dated December 15, 1980 to re read the
origional murder reports to see how Chapman went from point A to point B. While noticing
that there was no murder report and that these issues came out a week before the crime, I
also noticed very strange behavior in the headlines that plugged, like codes, into John Len-
non’s murder. It was uncanny and alarming, in fact. When I got to a large color photo of just
elected Reagan under the headline “Who’s In?””Who’s Out?” I gulped a little thinking; “What’s
this all about;” Reagan’s “In” and Lennon is “Out”? What are these, government codes all about
Lennon’s murder?” I then noticed Nixon’s book, The Real War, sitting next to him, up front
and center. I literally found that book on the shelves and opened it right to the pages that
discuss killing John Lennon type “rock stars”. I then found the same picture in Newsweek with
the same C.I.A. style codes in the headlines and I started to get sick to my stomach. I had
to get out and get some fresh air. It was as if God was raining down the motherload of evidence
just for me, all at once, for emphasis, so I couldn’t deny it. It was not all just coincidence,
the way the evidence presented itself to me. I felt like a pawn of history that God was using.
WHAT a freaking honor. Me. Nobody, Steve Lightfoot. I knew exactly what had just happened.
I needed to get some fresh air.
My first inclination was to think; “My poor fellow man.” I visited the main library in down-
town San Diego and found the motherload of what I knew were government codes, after all.
Head spinning patterns of the messasges that all plugged into Lennon’s murder and not just
the obvious intent of the articles. I told my girlfriend at the time, Cheryl, “I’ve got em.”
I also told her, a few weeks later; “I’ve got to get out of San Diego and back to where people
know me. I’m not safe here.” It was just a matter of fact and that brief relationship was
the first sacrifice I would make post discovery.
I recall a moment of decision while riding my bike and I knew I had to go forward and as-
sume the mantle of messenger, once and for all. That was my exit from being a slob.
I remember, right after my discovery, looking for any excuse to weasel out of going forward.
I had no wife, no family, no growing career, no excuse, whatsoever. If not me, then who?
If you want to call my decision heroic than I’d rather say you’re all slobs, instead. If
you insist on making my actions heroic then let me suggest that being born with the common
decency to care about the importance of getting to the bottom of John Lennon’s murder is the
only reason I could be a hero; being born with the traits required to care to begin with.
As far as the stopping work, taking time off to gather my thoughts, looking into the apparent
coverup and questioning the story we were told, to the point of quitting work I’d say EVERY
BODY should have quit work and stopped paying taxes the minute Chapman’s 60 day psy-
chiatric evaluation lapsed into 61 days. Period. I’m less a hero, the rest of you more a com-
plete idiot and slob. You were all, as John Balushi would say,; “LAME’OS!”
Everything after coming forward and persevering and staying out of trouble and the sacrifices
I made were all heroic, but the only human on earth who hadn’t lost his mind and spine
merely seemed to be me. The rest of you were, indeed, all insane and you still are.
I recall phoning Jan Wenner of Rolling Stone magazine using the name Frank to let him know.
An operator in New York gave me his personal line. That was the start of my truth telling
journey. I recall telling my first citizen in these words; “Nixon, Reagan, John Lennon
triangle.” He absolutely gasped. I remember even the songs the jukebox’s played all had
a synchronicity; “Taking it To The Streets”, “Fire Lake”. I remember the tag line; “Everybody’s
Business.” being perfect for the cause. It all seemed so magical and big then.
My 12 speed, suddenly stolen while I slept, I hitch hiked to Santa Rosa in less than a day.
I loafed around my mothers apartment, at first, for a few months to collect myself. I was
still months away from discovering Chapman’s letter and Stephen King’s matching face.
Initially, my brother Mike said; “It looks like you’ve got something, there, Steve.”
My mother admitted; “The government probably DID kill John Lennon, but….”
She was O.K. with what I was doing until I came home with an armfull of the old Time and News-
week magazine issues that actually contained my hard evidence. She protested; “WHERE did
you GET those?”, obviously disappointed in my actually having hard evidence to point to.
A few weeks later she, apparently, threw about half of them away behind my back.
It was then that I knew that all of you were evil. Even my own mother. Evil. All of you.
Here I come to save the day and everybody resents being saved. Pure, human evil on display.
When I then discovered the killer’s face printed months before the murder and who it allegedy
was, Stephen King, my brother, Paul said; “Have you read the article, Steve? Read it.”
At that point I thought that Stephen King was a phony name and really had no idea he was
even a horror writer. When I read that this man really WAS a Stephen King and that he was the
writer of “Salem’s Lot” and “Carrie” I had to hand it to Richard Nixon for being so clever
he picked a plot that no one would be able to believe even if they all got caught. The
Lex Luther of our time.
That was my big wake up call that I had my work really cut out for me. The truth sounded
absolutely incomprehensible and crazy. I guess getting away with the Kennedy’s murders had
taught him something about the art of evil that most of all of you could never grasp without
my extraordinary detective abilities and talents to point them out for you.
“Yes, children, Tricky Dicky made you all sicky. So sick you can’t even see it.”
He went right over all your simple minded notions and headed you off at the pass before you
knew what hit you. You were cast under his evil spell, his cloud of incomprehensibility.
While the Reagan cabinet was eating jelly beans to ward off depressed looking faces all of
you were being molested with the real killer who was in your childrens bedroom’s shelf.
America was under a satanic brew and the pink and shock hair styles soon displayed the nations
ill mental health and spiritual poisoning. Pat Benetar’s “Gonna Harden My Heart” playing in
the nations backround. Sick, satanic, subhuman times.
(I’ll have to interupt this due to fatigue, but will resume tomorrow.)
To be continued…..
Election Mega Alert
What a sad, sad, situation we have here in America as this 2004 election draws
near. The liberals and the Democrats lack the will to win and are content to
lose, rather than use this expose.
The Republicans are the same old “Me and my money over America” crowd who give
us a bad world image, but the democrats are being lead to slaughter by their
own machine that is throwing the race, deliberately.
I’ll bet any one person one grand that Bush will be declared the winner, barring
this expose making national news. I’m not a naive fool like most of America,
in fact I’ve seen this charade play out many times before. Having met, in person,
Mondale, Ferraro, Dukakis, Hart, Gore, and other players, I think that Kerry is
planning to lose and that he got into the race TO lose, for Bush.
For example; When Dukakis ran in 1988 I was in the vast crowd at Crissy Field
in San Francisco. Midway through his speech I yelled out, as only I can yell,;
“Use Reagan’s Lennon murder evidence scandal!” The crowd all shhhhhhhushed me
down, like a bunch of stupid fools, but later, when Dukakis spoke about some
garbage collection issue, he looked right at me as he emphasized the word
“garbage” as if my expose were garbage.
We all know how he put on that helmet, lost, and how his wife drank bleach after,
which made us all feel like we dodged a bullet and good about Bush Sr..
In 1984 I peddaled a skateboard eight miles to see Mondale speak in San Jose and
give him my expose. Mondale was giddy and all but busting out laughing as he
looked right at me, seeing the naive trust and hope in my face. Meanwhile his
security stopped me, as I left, to check my backpack, thoroughly. I was morti-
fied to watch him conceed so hastily when Reagan was declared the winner.
In 1988 Gary Hart was the front runner for the Democrats before his affair
with Donna Rice knocked him out. Before that scandal he came to MY former jr.
college in Santa Rosa, Ca. and met me as I gave him my expose. Weeks later
he got caught with his pants down and sandbagged the Democrats with Dukakis. I
noticed, in a People magazine photo of his Corvette, that his licence read;”USSA”,
as if he were a Soviet agent or something. I now believe that he came to meet
me, specifically, to give me fase hope, to reduce my activism under the notion
that he would do something with my facts.
When I gave my evidence to Geraldine Ferraro in San Francisco the newspapers
showed her holding my magazine. I would learn, as I left, that her security
rifled through my backpack while she spoke.
At one point she looked directly at me with a stare that said; “YOU *%#@!. How
DARE you try to expose REAGAN!”,as if she was on his re-election team.
When I met Gore in Bangor, Maine in 1992 he was two hours late and he shared the
stage with a candidate who was endorsed by Stephen King. Clinton won but, ac-
cording to Bush Sr., it was because of my impact in Kennebinkport where I caused
a 19 point swing in the polls in just two weeks. Bush said then, during the Rich-
mond, Va. debate; “…You know, nobody likes “Who Shot John?” but…”
In 2000 I watched Gore switch personalities with every debate and, after he lost,
he put up very little fight to challenge the Florida sham. In fact, it was HIS
party that designed the misleading and controversial butterfly ballot!
Now we have Kerry, whose father’s real last name is Cohen. He got the nod after
I declared, on national talk radio, that Dean may be running to lose.
He got slammed by the swift boat scandal and said NOTHING, FOR WEEKS! He
let all the innuendo sink deep into the American psyche and THEN spoke up.
Now, if some of what the swift boat gang says is true Kerry would have known
that it would come out before he got into the race under the banner of
“Reporting for duty.” He would have known better than to run on his Viet Nam
credentials. Now that it has paralyzed his campaign he won’t get out of the rut.
He won’t talk power points about how Americans don’t want a president whose
father was head of the C.I.A. or an F.C.C. president who is Colin Powells son
or a vice president who was the former C.E.O. of Halliburton and a major board
member of Enron, for God’s sake.
Kerry, instead, has taken a subdued, lukewarm tack as he repeatedly puts up his
dukes to his supporters, as if he is fighting them instead of Bush.
John Edwards may well be sincere and was possibly chosen so Kerry could torpedo
his stature in the process for future races. Then again,Edwards may be part
of the same operation; “Operation Re-elect Bush.”
Kerry and Edwards should be highlighting the history that set this mideast war up;
Reagan embracing the Taliban and Saddam and Bush Sr. embracing Osama, all
decades ago. They should point out glaring facts such as how a signed agreement to
allow a gas pipeline through Afghanistan was the first and only achievement after
22,000 bombs were dropped there at the same time that the poppy fields were left
untouched, or that Iraq’s new president has already adopted Saddam like evils
such as personally executing at least six prisoners with gunshots to the head.
But Kerry and Edwards are steering clear of all the hypocracy on Bush’s part and
allowing this Vietnam issue to continue as time runs out. Furthermore, I predict
that yet another controversy will tar him around October that he won’t suffici-
ently challenge either.
One has to wonder about Kerry and Bush’s mutual membership in Skull and Bones
Society and their billionair status, both coming from east coast elite society,
as well as the fact that Kerry’s wife is exactly the kind of billionair that should
love Bush and the Republicans.
Most unsettling, Kerry once worked under Dukakis. I have decided to trust my
instincts and sound the alarm. I hope I’m wrong but fear I’m not.
I doubt that Howard Dean is any different, knowing how Rockefeller and big oil
run America, leaving nothing to chance, but especially the presidential elections.
Meanwhile, I fear that my fellow anti-Bush contingent will not stand up in time
with enough force to stop this apparent RIGGED election. Like the San Francisco
crowd that shhhhhushed me down at Crissy Field, they will be lead to slaughter
like passive sheep rather than do the one thing that WILL, DEFINITELY defeat
Bush; expose Lennon’s murder. Bush Sr. was head of the C.I.A. when the murder
was planned and Bush Sr. has already conceeded, by his own admission,
one election over the weight of this issue; the single biggest expose in U.S. history.
Now that the Republican convention is in process I see how the entire media is
chortleing over Bush’s prospects.
It’s as if Russia has taken us over and now we are a spineless, insane nation
under media mind control.
Knowing what I do about politics, the Vietnam flap may be a ploy to punish all
who ever protested it and its evils if Kerry should lose. To re-define it.
If my fears about Kerry’s intentions are true then Bush would be the greater
evil, the instigator and Kerry but one of his pawns. Bush would be the real
coward, deceiver and fraud, even a sociopathic, Orwellian monster.
If I’m correct America is already under occupation by our REAL enemies and
you, the people, are their guilty, spoiled, silent, weak co-conspirators.
Is there any good reason to be apathetic, turncoat, ingrates behaving like a dying
culture? I know you people are better than you’ve been behaving, so prove it.
Start putting my web address on signs and take to the streets. That will save you
if enough of you unite. All else will fail. You have THIS chance to succeed.
Please read “EXPOSE this or DESERVE Bush.” chapter listed at the bottom of
this chapter. Just click the gold titled reference.
Thank you for listening, Steve Lightfoot
RAMBLINGS:
This is a browsing of my various beliefs, having seen our political structure
and the ways of our people. Some of it will sound preposterous but bear with
me. Most of everything I will say here might be proved true, eventually.
I believe that our presidential elections are completely rigged, that both
parties work for the same group of big oil and corporate executives who really
run American politics. The vast military apparatus; navy, army, marines,
air force, police and F.B.I. and C.I.A. are perhaps the biggest powers on earth
and may be an even bigger factor.
I believe that Carter was put in to sanitize the presidency after Nixon and Ford
smelled it up, as well as to shoot liberalism in the foot in the process.
He was used to restore our trust in the presidency itself. He came from the navy
and is a self described tri-lateralist.
I belive that Clinton got in, in part, due to this Lennon expose but that he
merely performed the maternal duties of the same monopoly that runs the repub-
licans who perform the paternal duties of the power apparatus.
I believe that Orwellian mind control is the key to their whole plan and that
there is a reason our mass media seems so interchangeable. They all pretend to
protect us from the bad guys with their documentary style exposes but only
to give us a false image of what they’re really doing, the exact opposite.
In fact, KGO radio has admitted that they are owned by the C.I.A.. Will you?
The fact is that the military controls the media. G.E. a major defense contract-
or, owned N.B.C., for example.
The violence and mindlessness and stupid situation comedy scripts as well as
the rapid fire technique of changing images every three seconds in commercials
is a deliberate technique to mess with our minds so we are more easily controlled.
If the right wing talk show hosts weren’t paid millions of dollars per year
I doubt they would even spew the crap they do. I doubt that they believe their
own rhetoric, deep down. Another case of money buying America, corrupting us.
I know that the republicans want to liberate all of you from your guns because
they had any number of ways to kill John but chose the method that would make you
hate your handguns the most in the process. The N.R.A. is a fool to think otherwise.
I believe that people tend to be stupid and afraid when it comes to politics
and that their parents influences represent the views they assume, mostly false.
I think that fear of the powers we have created; our military and oil giants and
corporate America, determine our behavior and lack of action as a rule, that
deep down we are like the characters in The Wizard of Oz, all looking for what
we don’t have; courage, brains, a heart, a home. We foolishly trust big brother or
a Wizard or a city of Oz to run our lives rather than determine our lives
ourselves. I also believe that this neurosis lets the lowest common denominator
prevail, unlike a system that lets people like Lennon rise to the pinnacle of
influence and power and thus move us forward to a place that is truly better.
John Lennon was the ONLY human who had the genius and courage and credibility
to unite us all towards real change. Pity most Americans are too dense to even
understand why the government assassinated him or why nobody has taken his place.
We, the people, have scared off all other potential heroes with our apathy.
I think that most people mock my message because it lets them off the hook for
all that is wrong with the world and their collective role in it.
To admit I am right is like admitting we’re all bad parents who can’t protect our
kids from the bogeyman called government and all the misery they foist on us.
The truth is that you ARE all bad parents who DO let the government molest your
kids with King and anything else they choose.
Like a child who lets his parents determine the rules, adults never grow up to
the point that they stand up to their government. They remain a child and treat
government like their parent. People tend to not grow up and establish indepen-
dance and sovereignty over their own lives and futures.
I believe that money and modernism has poisoned mankind and has turned us into
subhuman work slaves who live spiritually impoverished lives.
There is a reason your divorce rate is at 52% and the other signposts of your
collective unhappiness; smoking, alcohol abuse, an obssesion with televised
sports, drug use, prescription medication and apathy and hopelessness.
You bury youselves in work and the lust for money to paper over your misery.
Like John Lennon sang;
“Nowhere man, please listen, you don’t know what you’re missing, nowhere man,
the world is at your command.”
“Doesn’t have a point of view, knows not where he’s going to, isn’t he a bit
like you and me.”
And from “Working Class Hero”;
“Keep you doped with religion, your sex an tv, and you think you’re so clever and
classless and free, but you’re still (bleeping) peasants as far as I can see.”
When John wrote those words the average number of hours one worked was under
40 per week. Now it’s over 50. But more oppressive, even with the wife at work,
you own less today than one paycheck gave you when he wrote those words.
To admit I am right about Lennon’s murder is to admit that you’ve all been blind,
fools and absurd phonies and the fear of letting your kids see you that way is
just too much to admit. Too much honesty for you to deal with.
Instead, I think we cling to the things that are assured; death and taxes.
You could all work less than 30 hours a week and have a better life. You could
all have horizontal windmills on your solar powered roofs and drive fuel free
vehicles that run on electricity.
You could all take control of your government and do away with corporate rule
of your lives and have better marriages, better sex lives, happier children
and a cleaner environment etc. etc..
But you need someone like John Lennon to bring these changes about. You
need a leader, not a president.
Right now this expose and me and my courage and wisdom are all you’ve got.
You could put me on your shoulders and carry me to your C.I.A. owned media out-
lets and break this story and start the revolution or you can trust John
Kerry to throw this election, foist Bush and big oil and corporate America and
wars without end on you and suffer the consequences.
Jail Stephen King, expose Bush Sr. and stop Bush Jr. and save yourselves.
Many of you may be too timid and afraid to act on this. That should scare
the rest of you who might have what it takes to break this story into action.
Meanwhile, I hold the people of the San Francisco bay area most responsible for
Bush Jr.s re-election and the hell we have become. They have all seen my web-
site emblazened van for years and are just too immature and foolish to make
hay out of it. They are derelict in their duty as citizens.
I doubt that they are too stupid to connect the evidence that proves my claims.
They can’t prove me wrong about my evidence. I’d love for them to prove me
wrong about their apathy and actually start a movement to get this on the news
before the election.
I’d love for that to happen, but I can’t make you care or make you wise.
Now please read “EXPOSE this or DESERVE Bush.
It’s listed below, just click.
Thank you again for listening.
DENIAL EQUALS CHILD ABUSE
While you read my website, contemplate the veracity of my claims, consider this; to even try
to deny my evidence is child abuse. The evidence speaks for itself. It’s obviously Stephen King
getting John’s autograph and not Chapman. It really is Mark David Chapman attached to a letter
linking himself to Reagan alleging that he is being moved, armed, into a hostile square, just three
weeks before the crime and the bold print headlines in Time and Newsweek act just like government
codes for only the several months surrounding the crime and on and on.
If you choose to deny any of it then you are guilty of child abuse. Even if you’re not a parent.
If you can’t summon outrage and recognition of what all this evidence means and do something
to expose and lock up murderer Stephen King then you’re a weak fool forking over all that
was once good about life to a sick, twisted mega ass-hole of a man; Stephen King.
That, my brain dead jackass, is a child molester. You.
Except for solitary me all of the world, but especially the people of America, are guilty,
child molesting jack-asses running around chasing a dollar bill with blinders on. Sick.
There you sit, America, sick as hell and then some. You’re the cause of all the misery I’m afraid.
You people are the monsters who choose to be deceived rather than take a stand against your
evil government. That’s right, your EVIL government. Most of you can’t even screw your heads on
straight. None of you can recall a trial for Chapman after all these years. Half of you think
it was Hickley who shot John Lennon. You’re a bunch of Soviet class slobs without a clue.
Machiavelli, himself, wrote; “It’s easy to deceive people. So many people are willing to be de-
ceived.” You actively participate in the coverup by ignoring my efforts to get you to care and you
side with the government over yourselves and your children. Why? Becauase you’re insane.
The assassination of John Lennon made all of you insane. It’s a provable fact and you are the
actual evidence, roaming around with your heads up your asses, clinging to your sick, weak,
stupid denial.
You people are the reason this kind of evil dared rear its head in the first place. Our leaders
knew they could count on your evil and they knew you’d silently excuse a trial even before the fact.
Look in the mirror all you weak, boot-licking, child abusing liars. WAKE UP!
I know I must sound upset. I AM. Why aren’t YOU? No wonder King taunted you, several times
in Firestarter; “You blind, obsessive fools.” just six months before he killed Lennon.
People, I watched everyone else in the world buy my magazine except the people wherever I act-
ually happened to live at the time. As if you have an unspoken conspiracy to silence the messen-
ger.
You people are sick and you have to be told so. You sick, motherfucking assholes.
When are you all going to get off your spoiled, weak asses and do the right thing? You’re waiting
for me to get killed, first, I know. No, you really are, people. You’re sick.
If you think your mass media, any of it, is your friend then shame on you, again, for being
so foolish. YOU have to oppose the media. The media is your enemy, ultimately. They ARE the
evil government. Wake up, you media induced, fascist, co-conspirators and EXPOSE your lying
media. It’s they who have sold you out. It was supposed to be their job to let you know if a horror
writer and not a lone nut killed our hero. They, not only failed you there, they bragged all
about their evil co-conspiracy in Time and Newsweek headlines for several months and, in the
process, let God Almighty know which planet is in need of being taken out with an asteroid, next.
A closer look reveals that they are comprised of people just like you; jealous, miserable, angry,
self destructive, weak and boot-licking. The kind of people who revel in watching people who
are better and more gifted than they are getting killed by their pet pervert, their govern-
ment.
You people are sick, hero killing masochists and you have no right to expose your own child-
ren to your cruel hypocracy. Stop it! Get help. You all need the help of a hero so badly.
That’s why the government always kills them, because you need them so badly, just to have them
to protect you from the government.
And there you sit, waiting for me to get it next. Pure sickness spread all over mankind.
One news reporter who was in Dallas the moment J.F.K. was killed said that the crowd made a
noise; “…like all the choirs of the world coming together, all singing out of tune. It was
a most unusual sound.”
That was the sound of all of you reacting to exactly the kind of evil I’m talking about. The
kind of evil that grinds all of mankind into the dirt and hell, itself, via assassination.
You all know EXACTLY what’s going on and only pretend to be so stupid. But you are weak.
New Yorkers sit under Yoko Ono’s evil rectum with their excuse to keep quiet. She told them;
“Let the courts decide…” at the time and then she kept quiet when there was no trial, after.
If she were not a government agent sent to break up The Beatles and kill John from the start,
if she were the simple wife we’d like to believe she is, she would have been killed, too.
It was reported that she sprinted ahead of John before the bullets flew, as if she knew. It was
Yoko who ordered the S.F.P.D. to kidnap and pistolwhip me unconscious in October of 1987.
New Yorker’s all knew that the government had already tried to deport John but they chose to look
the other way and allowed themselves to be deceived by the witch they initially called her.
They all followered her Judas ass to the hell America has become, since. She is their cowardly
excuse to do nothing. She is the government’s “Ace in the hole.” They, you, don’t want to admit
that their, your, lives could be so stupid and sick. Your lives could not be more sick. The
plot that murdered John Lennon was elaborate, perverse and unveils the totality of man’s evil
like no true story, except the crucifixion of Jesus, has ever done before. Right now it’s
all of you in the spotlight of evil. You’re the paralyzed pussies waiting for the story
to break itself. You have to break it, people.
When will you boot-licking (I cannot overuse that word to describe you enough) cowards do
the right thing and picket your media? You’re all child molesting bastards and weaklings till you do.
Do you people want to live like weaklings and bastards, covered in slime, your entire lives?
I dare you people to care.
Now, to give you a sampling of what you’ll get to hear and watch someday, perhaps on my own
exclusive website, circumventing all mass media, if necessary, doing live concerts, if necessary,
one of my latest songs in progress; “Live Wire”;
Live wire walking on a high wire
Poor life hanging by a thread
Busting the government for John Lennon’s murder
Lucky I’m not already dead
So many years, still, nobody cares
Left here with my fears
Am I really going anywhere?
You all turned your backs on John Lennon
With the lame excuse; “He’s dead!”
You people don’t care about nothing
You’re all sick in your head
You say that you’re ‘free’, Ha,
Home of the ‘brave’
In reality, you’re a media controlled slave….
One of my first ever verses goes;
The silly masses, laughing in their dark despair
Killed John Lennon, saw no trial and no one even cares
Lying to your children; “It’s the fan the papers pinned.”
Living’s easy swallowing that pill
Lights that used to signal you’re the human race have dimmed
Your smoky eyes are glazing over still…..
My chords are discordant and haunting and unlike any music I’ve ever heard and I think you’ll all
get a chance to grow with the message. Some of my songs are hokey, sort of;
Mommy and Daddy
Mommy and daddy love money more than they love baby
Till Lennon’s killer’s tried it’s the terrible truth, not maybe
John Lennon’s killer never went to trial because you’re morally lazy
Now your children have to pick up the pieces in a world gone crazy
There’s nothing you can do that can’t be done
There’s nothing you can sing that can’t be sung
You bring home the bacon and the pay check year after year
But you’re dining at the table of cowardice, hypocracy and fear
Bubble brained, you’re entertained on television, football and beer
Now another lying politician’s phony war’s drawing near
There nothing you can make that can’t be made
There’s no one you can save that can’t be saved
Deliver me from evil and temptation
Mommy and daddy love money more than they love baby
Till Lennon’s killer’s tried it’s the terrible truth, not maybe…
There are many more but I’d rather offer an episode that occurred at the center of the Venice
Beach Boardwalk in Los Angeles that illustrates exactly why I am correct in alleging;
“You’re all sick in your head…”
To begin with, the last time I wrote about a similar episode at the same place involving the
same, exact players (I think they may well be undercover police in homeless disguise to specifi-
cally harass me and my message from that hot spot) something someone said prompted me to think
that a terrorist attack might happen there, soon. After voicing my concerns to the Sidewalk Bar and
Caf� manager, a motorist rampaged through there killing at least one pedestrian ON the board-
walk about a month later.
Don’t ask me how I can sense these things. I don’t know.
In the past, there, months ago in fact, one angry loser of a man with a chip on his shoulder
made his animosity against me known. Assessing his psychology I’d say he may hate his father
who may or may not have either abused or abandoned him, I don’t know, but he seems to be “off”.
There is a piano player who hogs the space in front of the cafe. I don’t know how he is al-
lowed to pre-empt any free speech there 24/7, unless he’s part of a censorship plot with police,
but he does. He has good hands but can’t keep simple time and I think he hurts the scene
there compared to artists you’ll find on the Santa Monica Prominade, for example.
During a battle of free speech rights over his incescent cacophany this angry man came out
of the woodwork to harass me. Once I got my valuable guitar secured in my van and returned
this coward was gone. He won’t confront me without a crowd of his friends around or while
I have my guitar in my hands and I let the crowd know that.
Now, the fourth of April, 2014, the same 155 lb. 45 year old homeless man who
threatened me back then, sucker punched me as hard as he could in my right jaw. I barely flinched.
It began when his girlfriend interupted my music to see if I’d vacate the space I was in.
No one was occupying it, it was not her space nor any of her business, unless she is part of
a police plot to keep me away from there. I told her I will look into regulating this area.
Just then this angry loser with a chip on his shoulder poked his face into everything and
said; “What did you say?” I replied “I’m going to see about regulating these areas.”
A second later he may have hurt his hand trying to break my jaw.
Then his girlfriend started vandalizing my signs but took off like the cowards they are after
I got my valuable guitar in my car and called the police. I made a report and will absolutely
arrest this man the next time I see him or her. While I was protecting my signs from her
this man tried to hide behind the defending his girlfriend routine whom I never laid a hand on.
He, now knowing I was tougher than he planned, didn’t hit me again, however, as I was getting
my guitar protected.
Now, it’s not only the agent provocatour and his girlfriend that emerge as evil, but also
the other people who were there.
Innitially, when I asked someone to call 9-11, nobody lifted a finger. I had to call, later.
They enjoyed that I was being challenged for confronting society with hard evidence. They all,
apparently, want my message to go away and let the riff raff element rule the day. They
want to remain stupid and low class just because the truth is too much work.
It was like watching the Jews and Romans yelling “Free Barabas! Crucify Jesus!”
Sick, people displaying their sickness, publicly.
Not one to suffer anyone’s abuses, I calmly walked up and down the rows of outside diners and
remarked; “You child abusers never even tried Chapman and now you let his killer, Stephen King,
molest your children. You child abusers. You hero killers, you phonies. Behold the spectacle
that is your own evil on display here, today. I’ll buy your lunch if any of you phonies remember
a trial for Lennon’s murder.”
If that is how the restaurant waiters and passers by and sidewalk venders feel about something
as important as hard evidence against the government in John Lennon’s murder being publicly
displayed then it would be fair to say that the people of Los Angeles are Lost Angeles.
They are lost, cowards with no self respect or class. Until they care about the messenger
more than the assailants who jealously try to stop him I’ll stick to that fact.
Caught, L.A., at your biggest beach, acting evil.
L.A., in case you don’t know, you’re a city in need of some culture. You used to have it.
Way to go L.A.. Siding with the low life losers who help you ignore the truth about your murder
of John Lennon. Attacking a man whose greatness will eventually be recorded in history books;
me. They HAVE exposed themselves as satanic, Lennon killing bats for all the world to see.
I WILL contact councilman Bonnen(?) about rounding up the riff raff who monopolize the area to
sell tourists drugs and I will try to regulate that area so musicians cannot monopolize a space
more than five days a week instead of the 24/7 schedule our local piano man practices to, I think,
keep free speech, specifically, MY free speech, away. That L.A.P.D. want him there, not free speech.
If there is no progress with the detectives handling my report I will want to see the video they
may be ignoring. Incidentally, and pointing in the direction of a police conspiracy in-
volving this man, when I called the police number I was given by the reporting officer, nobody
answered for hours until I got a priveledged number to a sergeant who brideled at my even
calling him. Furthermore, though I was promised a canvassing of the area including obtaining
film of the incident from security camera’s outside the cafe, when I asked if any followup
or police contact occured that night the manager told me no. When I said that U.S. police
engage in censorship plots with undercover agent provocatours I know what I’m talking about.
It’s a provable fact you can dredge up on the chapter “Current Update” in my website.
This jealous man is about 45, 155 lbs., 5’8″ with long, dark, straightish hair and a long goatee.
He actually bears a strange resemblance to a 40’ish Charles Manson minus the swastika tattoo.
Like Manson, he seems to like manipulating others to do his dirty work, too.
He has leathery dark skin but he’s white.
His vandal girlfriend is about 33, 5’3″ and 120 lbs.
This provocatour may well work for police because of the way he always shows up within minutes
of my arriving, like clockwork, and this is how police conduct censorship, generally.
If he’s just a loser then there are too many of them polluting the Venice Beach Boardwalk and
Eric Garcetti should, perhaps, see about a facelift, there and make it safe for free speech.
As it is hundreds of homeless people sleep overnight next to their grocery carts there.
There should be a police officer within 200 yards of that area, generally, always. At least
before dark. Riff Raff rules that area because it is not patrolled properly.
Meanwhile, L.A., are all of you sick in the head or just the crowd at Venice Beach, your
main beach?
Do you know that I’ll make a four part movie someday that reveals all of America’s misdeeds?
Who will find the courage to help me break my story?
Hollywood? They revel in make believe and acting, mostly. Don’t hold your breath.
McCartney? McCowardly is more like it. He actually endorsed me live, once, barely, in 1990.
What about you?
Are you part of the problem or the solution?
In the world I envision there would never be a silent Paul McCartney or U.S. public once con-
fronted with my evidence. That modern society is exposed as such cowards in this crisis of evidence
is tragic for everybody. Spineless, boot-licking, phony, sado-masochistic all of you.
Shame on you all.
Shouldn’t you be jailing murderer Stephen King? Don’t you care about your kids? Or is lick-
ing coverup government boot more important to you? Keeping your heads down? Not free? Not brave?
Access www.lennonmurdertruth.com
Or, remain retarded. Get some culture, banal L.A., you seem to need it.
Oh, and by the way, in case police and our government are trying to break my jaw, I will be
deluging the boardwalk with this flyer to put a spotlight on the situation.
Do read my other chapters in my New Developments page, especially the ones at the top of the list
following this chapter.
Progress report: April 6, 2014;
I located the perps and phoned police at 5:15, 5:30 and still no response. About this time the
same girl came up to harass me again and her face was newly sratched up like she or someone
else clawed her with fingernails since Friday. She looked like she was on hard drugs, besides.
She threatened to puncture all my tires and that she knows what I drive. She told me; “I’ll
bet you never come round here anymore.” and to move along. I told her “You can fuck off.”
and dialed 9-11. She told me that people saw me grab her Friday and that I’d be arrested.
She’s lying and the surveillance film will show that. I’ll bet she put those scratches on herself
to cover her phony story about me. She is as sick as he and she may have gotten into a fight for all
I know. I recalled, after the fact, that her threats included the remark:’ “I can get you killed..”
A fact I will make sure gets adequate exposure there. Every time I see her there or him I will
announce this fact to the crowd as I remind them, also, that these two personify the coward-
liness of the people of the boardwalk, generally, where John Lennon’s murder is concerned.
As for the male perp, he shaved off his facial hair and got a new haircut. Either that or he
was wearing stick on props that looked dyed to begin with when he assaulted me. He also
seems to have injured himself and needs a cane since last summer. He picks fights.
It just occured to me both of them may have already been getting their karma that seems to
punish my enemies since I can remeber. Following his last episode of threatening violence against
me it seems someone else kicked his ass so bad he now needs a cane and she may have had her
face scarred the day after collaborating with her manipulative boyfriend to attack me by either
herself or someone else. Some of my enemies, Herb Cain, for example, and others even died
shortly after attacking me. I seem to have a very powerful avenging angel, somehow.
I wouldn’t want to be the unhappy assailant who hit me in the jaw, now.
While officers Kwon and Juarez were getting their side of the story I yelled that her scratch-
es were new since Friday and that she threatened to vanadalize my van minutes ago and that
the whole scene is on film at the cafe for proof. I had already warned the officers that, to
cover their acts, they were going to lie that I ever touched her or did anything but protect
my signs that she was kicking.
The police told me they would make a decision after the film was viewed or we’d all get arrested.
I’ll have to wait till Tuesday to see what’s going on.
These two are lying cowards. He hides behind her and her lies to assault me and now to try
to intimidate me into not arresting them both.
I will arrest and testify against them and remind the judge that this may be the very same man
who DID knife a tire of mine a decade or so ago there and has to be punished for his remorse-
less criminal behavior. I will keep the progress on my site and sue the city of L.A. if I am
prevented from charging these jealous assholes for battery and vandalizm.
So far, I don’t know what to think. I’ll have to see how the police act from here on.
As for their loser friends who are too classless to defend John Lennon, “Pound sand.”
Right now, L.A., you lick coverup boot. In fact, my next huge bumper sticker may next read;
“L.A. LICKING COVERUP BOOT” Either that or; “GET OUTRAGED, DOUCHEBAGS”
April 8, 2014;
It seems law enforcement is freezing me out of the loop of progress in my arrest case.
I called, as asked, and have been avoided all day and may well be out on the the streets with
a billboard reading; “Eric Garcetti Stalking me!” or whomever the police chief is.
The fact is I will sue all of them if these two harm me in any way or threaten me, even.
They are to be charged, tried, and punished and forced to stay 50 yards from me as a condition
of their release, after, period. Anything less will launch the biggest publicity campaign L.A. has
seen in a while. I’m unemployed now and have all the time in the world to break my story.
Meanwhile, L.A., I have the football. Don’t envy me like unhappy, angry man does. Help me
cross the goal line, please.
P.S. to read about this perp’s last attempt to terrorize me read the chapter below;
“Follow me. Get well”
Police Report;
About 20 years ago a young man tried to sell me some marijuana on the Venice Beach. I rejected
his offer and he said; “You do what you have to do and I’ll do what I have to do.”
It seemed like a threat I, wondered. A half hour later I noticed my van’s tire was stabbed
with a knife. This man would have known what I drive. I confronted him about it while he
buried himself in the protection of his gang friends. No blows were exchanged, he never de-
nied popping my tire, though, and one of them threw a skateboard into a building above my
head as I left.
That was 20 some years ago and, until last spring, this individual has never bothered me.
Then, while I was playing my guitar at the Sidewalk Bar and Cafe near Horizon and Speedway
streets, but on the boardwalk, this individual came out to challenge me to a fight and I had to
seek protection for my valuable classical guitar. He was gone after I put my guitar in my van.
I had not done anything to provoke him, in fact, I was making a speech to the restaurant
patrons about how the piano man, Nathan, monopolizes this area and prevents free speech.
That was on May 23, 2013. I documented the episode then in my website.
Now, on April 4, 2014 I was there, again, playing my guitar when this young woman approached
me to harass me to leave the area saying I was in someone else’s space. I explained if that
person comes I’ll leave immediately. She persisted in urging me to leave. I did not know, then,
that she was part of a tag team effort to conduct an assault with her boyfriend who was man-
ipulating her, apparently, to break my jaw.
I told her that I would see what I could do to regulate this area to allow free speech.
Just then this man, her boyfriend, presumeably, stuck his face near mine, apparently disguised
in a wig with phony facial hair, and said to me; “What did you say?” I replied, calmly;
“I’m going to see what I can do about regulating this area.”
Without warning he immediately swung a roundhouse punch with his left hand and hit me as
hard as he could in my right jaw. My jaw did not break, but almost did. Having my guitar to
worry about, I did not not hit him back but, instead, yelled to the dining crowd to call 9-11,
that I had just been assaulted. Just then this woman started to vandalize my signs, kicking
and breaking one. As I tried to gather them for protection I heard her boyfriend yell out;
“What are you doing putting your hands on my girlfriend?” as if he was trying to justify,
yet, another attack. I never touched her to begin with and was now securing my property
in the restaurant to confront him but he kept
away from me.
I had to call 9-11, myself, and, by the time I returned, both were gone.
Again, I did nothing to provoke this attack and did not throw blows or anything.
After I secured my guitar, then, another man, Mike, I believe, a black man about 35 years old
whop has a vendors stand there approached me and said; “Maybe I want to fight you.” I stood
my ground, silent, and he approached me and then decided I was more than he could handle
and he walked back to his stand.
Nathan, the piano player I disparaged last year, bagan playing the Rolling Stone’s song;
“Play With Fire” as if the attack was a retaliation for that year old speech I made and
that he might be a party to the assault.
On April 6, 2013, two days later, I spotted the two there, set up my signs as if I had not
seen them, and called police to make an arrest. This was at 5:15 pm. At 5:30 I called again.
At 5:40 this same woman came to harass me again only this time she threatened me by saying;
“We can pop all four of your tires, we know what you drive.”
Just then it occured to me that, for sure, this man IS the one who knifed my tire 20 years ago.
Because my mind was processing this link, at the time she said it, what she said next I almost
missed, but now I’m positive she said; “We can get you killed!…I’ll bet you won’t be coming
around here, anymore…”
Her face had new wounds, it looked like someone’s fingernails had scratched her signifi-
cantly between now and Friday. I had to secure my two signs between my legs to dial 9-11
and then she left. Officers Kwon and Juarez arrived 45 minutes after I made my first call.
I told them about the tire threats and a little at the time and they approached the two,
I thought, to make an arrest. They did not, however, explaining their version of the story
didn’t match mine. They said if the film I alleged is available shows I’m telling the truth
then they would make an arrest. That if I insisted on an arrest now that I would also be
arrested. I was assured that the two would be arrested after the film was viewed. I also
made sure to let the officers know that the woman’s new facial scratches I had nothing to do
with, that she may have caused them as a ruse to blame me for the man’s attack Friday.
Because I was conducting two job interviews in the days that followed some 30 miles away
I was forced to wait until the 16th of April to make the second report but notified the
other officers of the death threat that day.
At first I was very suspicious that L.A.P.D. was possibly behind this assault for not making
an arrest. I’m not sure they’re not, now, but it appears that Mike and Nathan may have
lied to police if they were interviewed to cause police to doubt my version of what hap-
pened. That they may have been part of a conspiracy to assault me and then lie to police
to protect my attacker. If so they are eligible for charges of giving false information to a
police officer and for obstruction of justice.
I attest the foregoing is true and correct under penalty of perjury this 16th day of April, 2014.
What film footage taken from The Sidewalk Bar And Cafe reveals. Taken April 4, 2014, a.m.;
11:35 to 11:55 Lightfoot is seen seated playing guitar across the boardwalk facing reaturant.
11:57 (Approx.) Man approaches Lightfoot standing with his back to camera for several
seconds. Lightfoot stands up and disappears out of frame for several seconds.
Suddenly a flash of a shadow appears just inside the frame not inconsistant with Lightfoot’s
claim of a flying left arm to his head.
11:58; A running Lightfoot reappears with guitar and sign in hands to restaurant front.
Alleged suspect, a man in shorts, not the first man seen, appears pacing around Lightfoot.
At one point he faces the piano player and, in a gesture of body language, tries to get the
piano player’s attention, opening his arms to him, though he seemed busy playing piano.
Suspect is seen pacing around Lightfoot for a few more seconds. At the same time a woman
is seen entering the frame from the left holding a large sign over her head and throwing it
towards Lightfoot across the boardwalk.
Several seconds later all parties are no longer visible.
This comports with the film footage both Steve Lightfoot and I viewed together. Technical
problems prevented saving this film footage.
Signed this 8th of June, 2014
——————————————————————————————
Steve Lightfoot
Now, this may be a drug selling couple with mental problems who hate my message or just me.
All attacks on my free speech must first be looked at throught the prism; “Is this a police
operation made to look like something else?”
I have been subjected to more than few of those conspiracies before.
So far, every domino that could be violated against my pursuit of justice and an arrest
has been violated.
I insist that these two be arrested, charged with assault and criminal threats and that
the Venice Beach Boardwalk be a safe place for me to visit and get my Lennon murder expose
out to the public there.
Anything less will agitate my activism to go after the top officials in L.A., the chief and
Mayor Garcetti, who are responsible, so far, for an abortion of justice.
Meanwhile I will be at the boardwalk passing out flyers alleging this man may be working for
L.A. police for the purposes of breaking my jaw and obstructing my message.
I will take legal measures against the city if I am harmed in the wake of their negligence, so far.
YOU BRAINWASHED JACKASSES
Yeah, me being in your face, rude, with my angle on your dysfunctional behavior regarding my
coming forward with the story of your lifetime, again. I really would rather not have to
be so critical of you all but you need an exorcism before you can see the truth.
The downside to taking so long to admit that I have been right all this time is that I have
a whole new perspective on America and money and capitalism and what must replace it since
the system you are under has rendered all of you obscene phonies giggling on your way down
the drain. America is dying, anyway, capitalism is dying, anyway. Evolution will replace all
that is with a more humane system that does not torture all of you so much. The military will
try to convince you all that such a move is not possible, that we need a military, etc..
Like it or not, I will become the most famous and influential human since John Lennon, himself,
once this story breaks. Of course, I could get killed, first, but that would be your loss
more than mine. You’ll be left under the boot of tyranny. Tyranny of the dollar bill.
When the whole world is waiting, with bated breath, at my next utterences, like they did
with John Lennon, I will be singing the praises of a lifestyle without money at all. I
will be demonstrating to the world how much better off life is in the woods and hills and
streams living off of nature and without flush toilets, toilet paper and every other con-
venience you all think are so necessary. No concrete, electricity, buildings, commerce or
exchange of goods and services for money. No cars, no planes, no restaurants, no bars, no tv.
The way our ancestors lived for hundreds of thousands of years.
In the first place, our lifestyle will kill the planet if it takes over the planet. In the second
place, all of those material possessions and conveniences come at the expense of your
happiness and peace of mind. I would go so far as to say that your current lifestyle is a
cruel bargain that goes against the human psyche and soul and is, simply, not worth it.
Had you all broken my story decades ago I might not feel this way and my life would not be
so dedicated to tearing this building down, but you took too long and I know, now, that it
is money, itself, that has seduced you all away from, dare I say it? The garden of eden.
Wasn’t the moral of that Bible story having to do with man’s attempt to have more knowledge
than intended? I think so. Eat of the apple and have the knowledge of God?
I would liken it to man’s first inkling of making tools and such and going off hellbent for
“progress” and the search for comfort and easy living. Improving on nature. Ha! Ha!
Instead our lives are a mockery of the human mind and body, a cruel treadmill of work upon
more work and, in the end, the middle class, the working class, getting screwed over time
and time again. What is it lately? The banks stealing your foreclosed houses after tanking
our economy, first, to do so? Next decade it will be something else. You’ve adopted a
masochistic psyche to deal with it in the meantime and even molest your own children with
the man who murdered your best friend, John Lennon. Capitalism and work and materialism
have perverted you all.
I am a hero with evidence that can save you and restore goodness, again. You are blinded.
You are too sick to care. You were seduced by satanic forces that corrupted you, all in
the name of exchanging work for money to buy things requiring everyone to pervert their minds
into doing something specific and unatural.
As you watch “Under The Dome” every week it seems clear to me that satan is howling with
victorious glee.
So, for your penance in taking so long to help me, I will help this overworked world away
from all you once held dear and worthy of wasting your lives on and replace it (at least with
the beginning of changing your minds) with something less ridiculous and cruel; Nature.
Many of you scoff that, even if I get my story out and arrest King, that the world will not
adhere to my advice. My poor treadmill exhausted, media mind controlled slaves. An asteroid
will correct you and force you to if I can’t.
I believe that there is a reason God allowed me to both witness a monster asteroid in the mid 60’s
AND discover the truth about Lennon’s murder. That there was a riddle involved. I’m convinced
that, if I can redeem all of you with truth and justice, first, that the asteroid scenario
won’t be necessary and you might be spared. I’m equally convinced that, if I am killed by
your phoniness and apathy and desire to lick satans government boots that the asteroid is just
a matter of time and perhaps in your lifetime.
When Terry Chodash of the San Francisco Secret Service interviewed me in 1983 and said some-
thing about my demise I involuntarilly blurted out: “If I go we all go.”
I thought about it after and wondered why I said it, without thought. Maybe it means something.
By the way, in 1966 (?) I no sooner hit the pillow and looked up into the sky above Healdsburg,
California when a monster asteroid just missed us by about 3,000 miles. It lit up the sky and
left a trail that took up one sixth of the sky, bigger than a mountain, surprizingly silent
for being so close. It made it to Hawaii in less than two seconds. About the size of the one
that killed the dinosaurs and carved out the Gulf of Mexico and pushed up the state of
Florida. (It just happened to be the one night I decided to sleep outdoors that year.)
While I believe I descended from an ape I believe in God and have noticed he shows me
things he won’t allow others to see.
Do you people want to gamble with ignoring or killing one of God’s favorite humans?
By the way, if my story gets close to actually breaking, the government might kill Stephen King
just to keep him from telling all he knows about our government’s evil agenda. In fact his
1999 van “accident” that almost did kill him may have been our government trying to do just that.
I don’t think it was a coincidence that the driver of that van wound up dead months later.
Either King had him killed or the government killed him because he knew too much. I think.
Roscoe White, the man behind the grassy knoll in Dallas, who killed J.F.K., was killed two years
later in an oil field fire in Texas, similarly, if I may rub your faces in reality.
Our government has already been caught mind molesting you and yours with pure evil in the
way they replaced Lennon with murderer; King and I’m sure King knows more about what our evil
government is really up to beyond that. It was Nixon who admitted that “fear” is what most
people respond to. Our government is mind controlling all of you with fear. Period.
Just a heads up; all mass media is under government state control, like Russia. If you don’t
think so please pardon my title for this chapter.
Not finished with you, yet;
Let’s talk about your hero jealousy, you know, the part of you that wants your kids to have
no heroes before you. Let’s also talk about your working class misery, you know, the part of you
that is in so much pain from having to run on that daily treadmill that the thought of some-
one skipping past all that to fame and fortune won’t let you help him, even if that hero is try-
ing to make your life better. Let’s talk about your fear of government, you know, the part of
you that recognizes that the government could blow you up or poison you or ruin your economy or
doom you to a life of slavery just to stay in business. Tax you, audit you, punish you.
Let’s talk about about sinful, weak, prideful, ashamed, cowardly, guilty, boot-licker you.
Do you pretend it was alright to allow Chapman to skip public justice because you’re in good
hands with your mass media? Or did you skip demanding a trial for John Lennon’s killer be-
cause you want to punish your children with a sour world just because you aren’t well and
feel your kids should suffer the way your stupid parents made you suffer with their silence
when J.F.K., R.F.K. and M.L.K. all got shot for daring to make your lives better? Do you damn
your children with the Chapman lie just to punish them for having to raise them and all the work
and responsibility that entails?
Why ARE you such a sick, weak lying, stooge and clown? Why do you turn your head and look
away when you see the government molesting you and your kids with a geeky horror writer who
loves hurting humanity and destroying the goodness that John Lennon represented?
Maybe you’re a sado-masochist. Maybe all of you people are sick sado-masochists.
Maybe you like to be spanked by “Big Brother”. Now that you’re an adult your parents aren’t
around to spank you anymore. Maybe you need to remain a child and never become a man. Maybe
you secretly lack the guts to stand up to your oppressor and fight for what’s right.
I used to be a stupid, boot-licking, coward just like you. That’s right. When Nixon was pardoned
I rationalized my apathy with the lame excuse; “He had his public nervous breakdown. I guess
that’s punishment enough.” Never mind that justice was twisted and perverted and the presi-
dent was suddenly above the law rendering all of society a complete farce. I also had my
shiny, new 1972 MGB convertible sports car and golf ambition to sooth the injustice.
I was once a stupid coward just like you.
I eventually stopped tolerating my owm stupidity and cowardliness. It took losing John Lennon
but I stopped being a stupid, scared victim.
The question is, will you ever become a man and stand up against your government now that you
are armed with all the hard evidence you need? I changed. Can you?
P.S. You have made it to my site and stayed this far with my op/ed page. Good for you.
Until you act upon what you know you’re still in the same boat as all the other boobs that don’t
get it.
In spite of the fact that I live in California and millions see my van, here, Californians account
for less than 7% of my magazine sales. It’s as if people are evil and WANT to suppress the
truth about Lennon’s murder. Want to live under the lie. Want to protect King and the govern-
ment. FEAR the truth getting out, A conspiracy of apathy that is pro coverup.
Shame on Californians for being so weak and phony and satanic and boot-licking at heart.
Americans are morons and their apathy about my findings is proof. They are still infantile in-
fidels, silent simpletons and, in my opinion, most of them, slave wage fools. They just don’t
seem to get it. What a tragedy they have opted in on. Exploitation of the majority by the
very small minority. Even the fat cats can’t see how absurd their lives are chasing money.
More than half of all your marriages fail. There must be something wrong with the way you all
live.
Admit it, if you can.
Please read my other chapters, below, for your sake.
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