Joshua P. Warren works with a man named Brad Mulder (yup Mulder like X-Files. I ordered the Field X Wishing Machine and as part of the purchase price I got to talk to Mulder who pre-programmed my wishes. I wanted to lose weight and I wanted my neighbors from the pit of hell to move. The later was pretty out there. I also programmed Josh’s BAD BUSTER with the intention to rid my life of financial worries. And I used the MIRACULOUS PRAYER BOARD to wish for good health and to thank the universe for tiny blessings each day.
The Field X machine arrived and I wrote to Josh and Mulder
7:04:46 p.m., Friday, August 7, 2020 (Precisely 13.5 Sidereal time)
Waning Gibbous 86% Placed parchment with wish list into the Field X.
I also had made up a batch of Witch’s Black Salt and I used my old cinnamon broom to sweep the cul de sac between my driveway and the pieces of excrement that tormented me. A week later THEY PUT THEIR HOUSE ON THE MARKET. It sold almost immediately. I then used the Prayer Board to ask for a great neighbor. One that God would want me to have. VOILA, David moved in and he’s a true gift from GOD! Seriously, only the DIVINE could have custom made my neighbor.
But the financial worries and my weight dragged on. The fiends drove away from my neighborhood, as I told Josh, at 4:17 p.m., Monday, November 9, 2020 the neighbors from hell pulled away from the, pardon my French,shithole hauling what looked like the contents of a homeless shelter.
Fast forward one year. JUST A YEAR. NOT a decade, not a century. JUST A YEAR.
Harry Leo Duran, MD, Ph.D., Mph, a genius, a great doctor or a terrible one – it depended on the day, sometimes even moment in time since he could change on a dime, DIED in his sordid luxury apartment around 2:30 in the morning on Monday, November 8, 2021!
Duran had abused me for 26 years. We had met at Salmon Ruins on Bastille Day 1974 when my roommate said that there was this guy that was assigned to empty the wheelbarrows for the Tower Kiva who talked like I did. She said, and I quote: “I don’t understand anything you say. And I don’t understand this guy either YOU’RE PERFECT for each other!” And so she introduced us at lunch in front of the mess hall as he came down the slope from the Tower Kiva. (Why and how we actually got married is chapter to itself.)
We looked at each other and INSTANTLY recognized each other’s souls. His eyes sparkled. He was a skinny17 year old Chicano kid with long hair. I was a bronzed perfect size 10 20 20 year old green/blue eyed blond who wore Wrangler jeans, cowboy boots, and a knife on my belt at all times. We talked for hours. I had a cheap cassette player that I used to blast out next to my assigned pit. I played Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring, Native American Chants, Rimsky-Korsakov and every year in July Harry would comment that I introduced him to Carlos Castaneda and music he had only dreamt about. He could talk to me about any subject (although he bored me to death half the time). Timothy Morton’s hyper objects, Lovecraft’s writings, UFOs, skinwalkers, Tibetan Buddhism, Eastern Orthodox hesychasts, Idries Shah’s many books, Manly P. Hall, lucid dreaming – you name it. He’d often look at me and spook because he saw ancient versions of myself sitting on the couch. He was afraid of me and he hated me towards the end to the point where he tried everything he could to make me commit suicide.
And the one thing that was making me ill was the fear that he had drained all of our savings. He said he didn’t trust me so he created a Capital One 360 account (ING) that won’t let you have a joint account. Harry lied and said there was plenty of money when in fact he was maxing out his credit cards and he had drained $500,000 in savings paying for boy toys, plane tickets for boy toys, paying for a boy toy’s apartment, expensive wine and hard liquor. He basically ate and drank and EFFED every dime he made.
TERROR set in when I made him give me access to his Capital One account when he got sick in October. First thing I did was make myself beneficiary. In August he wanted to consolidate his two pittances of an IRA into one so he made me create a Charles Schwab account and well, I made myself beneficiary.
I set up the rollover from one but the second one required a notarized signature and he never got around to it.
Once the larger fund had rolled over he told me to initiate a wire transfer taking a third out. For whatever reason, it triggered a Schwab fraud lock. He was locked out and so was I. I tried everything I could to get them to talk to me. NOPE. But finally, I got someone to tell me what to do. Fax a NOTARIZED letter with his driver’s license and a request to unlock it. He did that. I wrote the fax. I even had him drive and go in the ONE Schwab office in Vegas to expedite it.
The fax seemingly went into a black hole. He called and spoke with a supervisor the first day he started to show signs of COVID on October 23. The lock stayed. He told me he was going to withdraw the ENTIRE amount and I could go F myself.
He got sicker. His oxygen dropped and continued to drop. And then he died.
HE DIED ON MONDAY, NOVEMBER 8, 2021! The monies transferred into my account TODAY!
I had a verbal offer on the vacant house he used when he came home from Vegas. It fell through so I listed it on January 7. 2022 with Bonnie Bawcom and the realtors showed it immediately. I had a signed offer and earnest money on January 9 and I got the check from the Title Company when it closed and transferred to the new owners on February 18. I loved the yard and the views but the house held memories of violent beatings. The last time I saw Harry was September 23, 2018 when he brought two abandoned 7 week old puppies up for me to raise.
I can now sell his empty condo. I can now sell all of his designer clothes, shoes, $3,500 pieces of art work, high end philosophy books, antiques, his TROLLS!
I am now driving his 2019 Ford Ranger – oh did I leave that out?
On August 9, 2021 Harry was rear ended by a felon on parole in the process of making a drug deal (How do I know that? He got out of his car with a backpack and took off and there was aluminum foil on the seat with white powder – he didn’t have a driver’s license). Harry was a Board Certified Addiction Specialist who had a contract with the Drug Court to detox inmates. What a divine mock that was. I HATED his fully loaded tarted up 2017 Mustang GT muscle car. HATED IT.
For some reason AAA gave him 3 times book value. Paid off the car loan and gave him a check that he used to buy the Ranger. It has a loan but I don’t care. I gave my 2007 Ford F-150 to Ryan for helping me pack and load the UHAUL in Vegas.
Now one must remember that along with all of Josh’s manifesting tools, I also prayed constantly to Sri Ganesha, Sri Hanuman, Mata Laxmi also spelled Lakshmi (Sanskrit: श्री). I ordered and hung the Chinese God of Wealth in the wealth corner, redid the master bedroom using feng shui techniques. Placed grids all over the house. Prayed in front of a Thai Mandir, and talked to the 19th century Mahogany Senufo who stands guard next to the hallway to my room.
I begged and pleaded. I set up a feng shu tree in the love corner hoping Harry would come around. When the tree got toppled by the cats and the ONE romantic item he ever gave me – a pink glass lamp with two kissing angels shattered along with tree, I had a bad premonition that he would die.
It turns out he had full blown AIDS with Vestibular Dysfunction and psychosis. I’ve already started the draft of the tell all book.
Joshua P. Warren had no idea how much his manifestation tools coupled with Yasmin Boland’s lessons would have on my life. The shackles of years of torture and torment are over. I can now emerge from the pain and regenerate. I burnt off more karma as I had asked to do than most people would ever want to even attempt. I am free and I will use the lessons beaten into me to heal the planet!
SO MOTE IT BE!
When I first posted this, I was using the browser, Brave, and it blocked the color wheel pop up. I’m back using Chrome.
I also now can say that, thanks to the Hay House Writer’s Community, I have a LOT of support for writing my Tell All Book and oddly enough, yesterday all of the news wires were publishing stories about how the New York Times finally admitted that the Hunter Biden Laptop was authenticated. This morning over French toast and Jimmy Dean sausages, I tried to tell Ryan about it. He’s blocked out the news. (Ryan lives in the apartment on the other side of the house in case you were wondering. I saved his life in July – long story and he saved mine – it’s all going in the book. Besides Little Man has decided he loves living with a house full of dogs and cats and since the house is haunted, it helps having a ghost hunter on the property.)
While doing the dishes, I heard the last part of an interview with Miranda Devine author of Laptop from Hell. I had to cheer because I have been comparing what I found on the fiend from hell’s cell phone and in his personal effects to make Hunter’s laptop look like a walk in the park. True, Duran didn’t engage in shady dealings with oligarchs, nor did he rack in millions of dollars, but he tried to fit in with the elite and in the book, you will see how his Facebook friends, and some of his extended family attacked me for posting about what a dirt bag he was. My hope, Simon and Schuster will want to publish my tome as well! Go Miranda!