A COSMIC INTERVENTION IN THE WAR BETWEEN GOOD AND EVIL

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 DIED in this 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 have a verbal offer on the vacant house he used when he came home from Vegas. The last time I saw him 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!

WORD PRESS is all messed up. I complained but the Color Font editor is still NOT working. I tried editing the HTML and then I lose all my work. Sorry,

NOooooo! My COUSIN Lives with a WHAT??????

I have not seen my dad’s sister’s daughter – my ONLY blood relative on the planet other than 6th cousins 10 times removed since 1980. She is the NICEST most devout Christian that ever lived. She is incapable of uttering a negative thing about anyone. I don’t think she even uses expletives (bad words).

Well, desperate to talk to her as we were trapped in Ely, Nevada from motion sickness after driving through the desert eating nothing but fast food for days, I called the landline and out of the blue, Kevin, her live in boyfriend answered. Now I always thought that it was odd that my devout cousin would have a live in boyfriend – one she acquired after a divorce many years ago because living in sin seemed out of character but it’s the 21st century and our grandparents died decades ago.

But what had me floored into the hotel carpeting was the bombshell Kevin dropped from a B-1 bomber into my room. Oh, yes, Ginny said that you IDENTIFY as a witch. That was hilarious until he said, you know I’m a witch. WHAT? Oh, yes, and I have an altar. WHAT?

When I was little, I wanted to be just like my cousin. She had won a Fulbright Scholarship to study in Uruguay. She was brilliant. She went on to get a masters, teach Spanish as a professor at a couple of colleges and she got an MBA. My role model. Just perfect. Gracious. Well traveled. Soft spoken. Kind. Kind hearted. And she lives with a WHAT?

An hour later, I hung up to go see what the hotel breakfast buffet offered. Cheese omelet with pork sausages and a cinnamon bun later, I tried to process the shock. To my knowledge Ginny hasn’t inherited the psychic ability my dad had. But then again, what do I know. She never once, ever, unless I truly am incapable of listening to someone, said that her housemate had an altar or an intense 70 year long interest in the occult. NEVER! I swear that would have struck a nerve.

But the day had not ended. We got home. And I got to talk to Jo Jo Jilbert and his investor friend that I met at the two acre studio property in Vegas. WHAT a phone call that was.

More on the revelation that I have a real DJ to help me sell the $10,000 professional turntable and DJ control panel, a real stock trader who was not surprised that I was invited by Jim Rogers to be his guest on his show about emerging markets back in 1993, and a chat with the man who sold Harry most of his designer clothes at Stitched – oh yeah the fiend from hell only bought designer clothes! My next task is to follow up with the Lego artist and the oil painters. THANK GOD I ran with the artsy fartsy crowd back in the day.

PS Damn WordPress still hasn’t fixed the color wheel. Thank God I used to create websites using HTML code from scratch but seriously, why?

A Suicide, A Yaqui Medicine Woman’s Sister, a former Sorcerer, and BIGFOOT

I am now convincd that I stepped into the Twilight Zone and the past two weeks are God’s way of trying to drive me insane. In fact, Word Press is also malfunctioning. The color drop down box has vanished! So forgive if the font color isn’t consistent.

To start the Pet Sitter from Home on the Range, LLC QUIT claiming my house is haunted. They charged extra. I kid you not. I’m going to file a police report once I get some sleep.

So it all started with my late deranged psychotic perverted BOAR of a husband commiiting suicide in Vegas by overdosing on his Nebulizer medications (Albuterol and Ipratropium (Duo Neb). He told everyone he had COVID. I found out he was HIV Positive (Contracted it abruptly after taking off my grandfather’s wedding ring that I gave him TWICE – first with the Justice of the Peace and second in the Society of St. Pius X chapel in El Paso. It was also blessed twice in the Antiochian Eastern Orthodox Church In Twin Falls and in Salt Lake City.

Didn’t matter, it was found buried in a box with some junk.

Being a medical intuitive is a PAIN IN THE – better not use the word. I saw DOZENS of close ups of those on his phone. Remembered his password I did. Unlocked several Apple devices we did.

But the suicide, the horror of finding out that your husband was a PERVERT is one thing.

Arriving at the a motel near the Mandalay Bay shortly after the anniversary of the mass shooting and having the sister of a Yaqui Medicine Woman come racing up to me because she could SEE ME and just had to talk to me and get me to meet her sister was mind boggling.

OH and she confirmed that the ALL WHITE Yei with the TWO TALKNG GODS IS a sacred object – more on that next time.

The fact that the apartment where he died was haunted and our phones kept malfunctioning, computers in hotels and at the Home Depot trying to rent a truck malfunctioned, gates opening with no one around – OH POSH – just hauntings. Nothing to worry about.

BUT when I exploded in a fit of temper and screamed out that my husband had been a sorcerer and was messing with the Home Depot computer, the looks on masked faces was shocking. NO EXPRESSION.

So I bitched again and the guy who couldn’t get the computer to save his life said -Oh yes, I was a sorcerer myself 40 years ago and yes, he’s messing with us. GREAT. Just GREAT.

But who cares. Packed up some exotic art, designer clothes, gaged on the stench, yada yada.

So then the GPS malfunctioned. Ended up going west instead of east, south instead of north.

Saw a white car with Nevada vanity plates that read KALKI.

Don’t know who KALKI is. Shame on all of you.

I had seen this car in Salt Lake City when I was taking the late Mart to the hospital on one of dozens of trips but I was driving and the phone was in my purse. This time I saw it at the stop light and my purse was on the seat so I got a picture. Oddly enough the late creep I was married to had seen it in Vegas back in 2017 also. MMMM. DATES DATES DATES

KALCHAKRA – TIME the WHEEL OF TIME – some of you might know what I’m rambling on about.

https://www.ageofkalki.com/arrival-of-kalki/#:~:text=According%20to%20Hinduism%2C%20it%20is%20said%20that%20the,the%20earth%20a%20peaceful%20place%20to%20live%20in

If you’ve been paying attention, Ryan is a HUGE Bigfoot fan. So I am. Alas, he’s wanted to even go on one of those expensive hunts. I’m not up to that kind of hiking. So Bigfoot came to us.

WHAT?

Having been sent the wrong way by the GPS system it was now pitch black out and we were BLOODY exhausted to quote the British.

Phone call on a the road going north through the forest. Can’t drive another minute you memorized the road, find a pull over.

So into the Pahranagat NATIONAL Wildlife Refugee I go and the second I saw a spot large enough for a 16 foot moving van and my truck I pulled in. Catch a couple of hours of sleep, right?

Ryan gets out, didn’t tell me until two days later that he thought he had stepped in putrid dog poop. Nothing on his shoe. (checked with the with the high powered flashlight I age him for his birthday in September) Nothing on the ground. DEAD panic ran for his life in front of both trucks and dove into mine and screamed LOCK THE DOORS!

Trying not to freak out myself, I didn’t smell anything odd, I pushed lock. Assuming that we needed to pretend I had no idea why Ryan was terrified, I said, “Do you think the murderer of those Lesbians in Moab is out there?” No, but there are hunters as he smiled trying to get me to shut up and go to sleep.

Well the passenger seat was too uncomfortable so racing again for his life, he dove into the truck with the furniture and pulled the sliding door tight shut.

And that’s when my ordeal began. Little Man would NOT settle down. So I took him for a walk. Barely could see. NO MOON despite the fact that should have been a moon. NO SOUNDS NOTHING DEAD quiet.

Dog was acting weird. Got in truck.. Won’t settle down. I’m freezing so I get out again and find filthy placemat size YEI Navajo rugs that used to hang on the PERVERT’s bedroom wall as a kid and tried to sleep. I had put them in a tote to separate them from all the thousands of items in the apartment because, well, the YEI are sacred. Never thought I needed them to keep me sort of warm.

DOG is fussing, lying on top of me. Swatting me. Panting. MMMM has to poop? Walk again and again.

NOPE. So I get out with my keys – left my glasses just in case, and had to empty my bladder in front of my truck. I haven’t peed on the ground since 2001. Very successful. I was VERY PROUD of myself at 1:47 a.m.

Got back in the truck and Little Man curled up and fell instantly asleep. His soft snoring put me out as well. Had to pee at 3 a.m. I also get awakened at 3 but this time I managed to pee and then trying to finish up the task stumbled backwards and fell flat on my back with my pants – well they were not up that’s for sure.

I had a Lumbar 5 operation in 1999 and it’s degrading a bit so I can’t get up if I’m on the ground.

FREEZING out at this point and I’m staring up at all the stars this time praying that Ryan DOES NOT wake up. Got my pants in place, rolled over successfully, found my keys – never leave keys in a vehicle with an animal – they often lock you out. And then I tried to get up. FINALLY did get up and it was a very ungraceful operation and my legs felt like jello.

Got back in the truck and fell asleep. We woke at 4:30 am I think.

But I have to back up. About a half hour after Ryan had gotten into the cargo hold of the truck, I heard a crashing through the woods. I figured at first that he had fallen inside the truck but it sounded like breaking branches.

NO it was not a cow. I’ve lived on open range land long enough and it was NOT a cow. Too far from any ranches anyway. NOT a deer. I live with deer in my yard. You can’t hear them. NOT an Elk. Some idiot suggested a MOOSE – do people not know ANYTHING about geography?

And not a bear. A bear would not make that sound.

Bigfoot stinks. Worse than a bear and if you’ve ever smelled a bear near a rest area toilet, you’ll know what I mean.

And Bigfoot is telepathic. For hours I felt HI HI HI HI HI HI HI HI. Hi as in hello

Did you know that if you pee in the woods, predators can do a diagnostic analysis? Diabetes, diet, age, gender, and a host of things we can’t do in a lab.

When I realized the time when I posted about what was going on on my Facebook page, Little Man quieted down after I SUCCESSFULLY peed on the ground.

In my mind’s eye I saw a 5 foot tall male juvenile and it had been tracking us for a long tme.

Ryan who wanted to pay to see a Bigfoot SLEPT THROUGH THE WHOLE THING.

And I didn’t get any sleep at all!

We compared notes in the middle of nowhere on the shoulder of the road in the middle of nowhere so Little Man could relieve himself. That’s when we were honest with each other. BIGFOOT on a trip to empty out the apartment of a deranged narcissist.

Oh, and the lady who was friends with the deranged narcissist’s live in boyfriend who I had never met and didn’t know existed, is the granddaughter of a curandera – who helped – the deceased Abuelita find Ryans glasses when he laid them down and someone packed them.

But HER story is going to take a long time to write and I’m exhausted.

TALE OF THE DEMON WHO WAITED FOR AN OLD LADY TO DIE

Every October I have flashbacks to a rainy Sunday in Absecon, New Jersey when I showed up at my mom’s nursing home (Absecon Manor) to get her laundry to take home and wash.  My mom had multi-infarct dementia and possibly Alzheimer’s.  She could be absolutely vicious so I dreaded visiting her.

I kept her laundry basket in the wardrobe at the foot of her bed so all I had to do was collect the basket and check to make sure her clothes had not been stolen – which happened a lot.  Her bed was next to the window and there was a small bathroom near the door to the hall.

Her room was at the far end of the hall on the second floor in a modest nursing home.  The CNA (Certified Nursing Assistant) and the floor nurse were both very personable.  My mom had been in that room for several weeks before they had to move in a roommate.  The roommate was often asleep when I got there and on that fateful day, she appeared to be in a coma. 

At the foot of the roommate’s bed right inside the door sat two people – a man and a woman.  The second I looked at the bed, in my mind’s eye – third eye – back of my head – not with my eyes as we see a chair or sunset or a dog in the street – I was looking right at what I guessed to be a 6’ 5” tall, blacker than any black in our color spectrum, two-legged demon with a face that reminded me of the Shadow People from Babylon 5 –  insect like but human all that the same time.  Eyes were also black.  I couldn’t see its hands but it had arms and I couldn’t see the feet.

It stood right next to the woman on her left side – just like Carlos Castaneda claimed Don Juan Mateo had told him.  Death stands over or next to your left shoulder.

Instantly, I also heard, in my head, a voice SCREECH – GET THE FUCK OUT!  And it tried to be as menacing as could be with pure venom and hate.  I just stared back at it and in then looked at the man and woman as I opened the wardrobe.  GET THE FUCK OUT NOW  FUCK YOU GET OUT!  I took my time and then looked right at it and then looked at the man and woman and asked “What happened?”  I can’t remember their exact words but they said she was dying.

I nodded and then looked right at the thing again, paused, and excused myself and left the room.

Out in the hall, which, thankfully, was empty, I passed a couple of rooms and made sure no patients were around, and then I turned, put down the basket, raised my arm over my head visualizing the Sword of Manjusri, and cursed the demon to hell and back. 

If you are a Christian, this might upset you but I said aloud “YOU JANUS HEADED SON OF A BITCH!  I don’t CARE what that old lady did.  I DON’T CARE if she goes to hell or not.  BUT you ARE NOT to let that old woman die in front of those two (and I think I hissed ) PEOPLE!

DAMN YOU – blah blah – She is to DIE in front of the ONLY person on this planet that gives a rats ass about her! 

Then I turned, swung the “invisible” sword if anyone has seen me, and screamed “AND FUCK YOU”!

Then I stormed out of the building and went home to do the laundry.

Later in the afternoon, I returned with the folded laundry and as I got halfway down the hall, one of the aides was wheeling my mom for a visit.  As usual, she was having one of her rage attacks so I screamed – get her away from me because simultaneously, the floor nurse and the CNA assigned to the floor came running – racing actually towards me.  “We need to stop you!”

Mrs. ???? passed right after you left and we don’t want you to . . .

I started screaming hysterically and can’t remember what they were saying except they both yelled

OMG YOU SAW IT  with an emphasis on IT!

I then blurted out what I had done and they looked on in horror.  They finally let me put the basket in the room and they then told me the following:

The old lady died after I left.  BUT this is where it gets creepy.

The man was her son and the woman the old lady’s daughter-in-law.  THEY HATED her.

Everyone hated her.  EVERYONE except a niece.

Unbeknownst to me, the couple left right after I did although I never saw them.

They said that the niece was probably walking towards me in the hall because as she was taking off her raincoat and putting down her umbrella  – – – –

THE OLD LADY DIED THREE (3) DAYS after the Demon appeared!

Right at that precise moment in FRONT OF THE ONLY PERSON ON THE PLANET that cared for the old lady AT ALL!

The nurse told me she never looked at the demon’s face and that it NEVER spoke to her.  The CNA said it never made a sound. Both women had to change bandages and adjust the IV and bedding.  The nurse said she had to pass her hand THROUGH the demon but it ignored her and she tried not to think about having her arm inside it’s body or arm.

They were dumbstruck that it talked to me and that I cursed it out – stared it down and cursed it out a second time.

No one knew if it escorted the old woman’s soul or not.  But my command was honored.

I finally stumbled more or less down to the lobby to talk to the stereotypical New Age middle aged receptionist with large hair who was always chatty.  Oh YES, she gushed!  All kinds of beings come for the dead but it’s usually a family member but I  – increase volume ‘ I” have seen angels.  And yes, that lady was pure evil. 

I wanted to get more information when I spied one of the best looking men I have EVER seen who wasn’t on a magazine cover or in a movie.  Three piece all black, expensive looking suit – perfect body – gorgeous hair.  Oh MY!  But I was so freaked out and it was Sunday so I figured he had just come from church and I looked like something the cat had dragged in out of the rain.

I also felt like crap.  To misquote the Red M&M from the commercial “THEY DO EXIST!”

The receptionist was rambling on and just then the elevator opened and out came the drop dead guy pushing – YUP – the gurney with the old lady in a black body bag!  I lost it all over again.

OMG THERE’S NO SOUL in the bag!

Oh yes, said the receptionist as matter a fact as if you had just said that you shouldn’t bake without letting the oven come to temperature. 

Oh, yes.  Sometimes the soul stays in the body.  I usually see them walking alongside the gurney or floating or even sitting above the body.  But usually they are in the body and not sure what to do.

Like I wrote in my last post, I was racing for the door as if I had entered the Hotel California.

At work, I asked my boss who had been a Roman Catholic monk – gave it up because he was very, very, very, very gay.  He took no interest.

I then sought out a fascinating woman who worked at the Circulation Desk who had done a doctoral dissertation on thanatology but never finished it or didn’t defend it.  Either way she didn’t get her doctorate.  But she was an expert on death rituals around the world and had conducted interviews with people who had seen “entities” come for the dying.

Oh, yes, there are nasty looking goblin creatures – those are the closest to the thing you saw.  Never heard of ANYONE ever seeing one of those.  Angels with wings.  Usually relatives even children and pets but a FULL size coal ebony shiny blacker than black over 6 foot tall insectoid anthropomorphic demon that screamed FUCK YOU – no – never heard of that but you weren’t the only one that saw it.  Only one that faced it and only one it spoke to or cursed – yes that’s not common.

I have told this story to hospice nurses.  Everyone I’ve talked to has only seen relatives – not even a pet.  I have tried to read every account of people who have seen something or someone come for the dying but have yet to find an account like the one I’m writing about now.

One reason why I thought I COULD write this up this evening is two fold.

My friend started a discussion in a Facebook group with the question:

A few hours later I got an email from Quora with this post. 

So, I figured I didn’t to wait to get a THIRD “message” from the universe that it’s time to document the

TALE OF THE FOUL-MOUTHED DEMON WHO WAITED FOR AN OLD LADY TO DIE

Halloween Day 2021 – I am adding this added paragraph because I JUST had a chance to listen to Joshua P. Warren’s October 29, 2021 podcast about THE DEVIL! I trust you will see WHY I updated this blog post today. Plus I wanted to edit a couple of typos, sorry.

Death Stalker – The Murder of Patti List in 1971

Every October I have flash backs to the night my parents dropped me off for an audition.

The house was on the North side of Westfield, New Jersey which doesn’t mean anything to folks who don’t live in Westfield.  Sandwiched between Route 22 and the railroad tracks that separate the North side from the South side are secluded neighborhoods with fancy names.  None were gated when I was growing up.  Thinking back, that’s odd, right?  The wealthy all live in gated communities now.  Although not mansions like you see in the movies, these homes were much larger than the average home.  Most had spectacular architecture.  Victorians, yes.  Many of those.  But the Tudors were my favorite.

And it was a stunning Tudor laid back nestled in the trees with soft lightening that I had been invited to one evening in October 1971 to audition to be the piano accompanist to a theatrical performance.  I was not at that time able to blurt out from the depths of my mind what I was sensing, but years later the label for what I sensed back then came tumbling out as a friend from work and my mother and I watched live as John List was arrested on June 1, 1989.  I’ll type that label in a minute or so.

I rang the doorbell after walking up a few steps into a portico off a circular drive.  Remember back then most homes were rather modest with short driveways but this house was not one of those.  The woman that answered was dressed normally.  I say that because there were no signals to set off an alarm but everything else about her gave me the willies.

There was a man in the room and his name was Edwin Illiano.  He was flamboyant but toned down from what you’d expect these days.  Illiano was the drama coach for a small theater group that had been recently formed.  My late piano teacher, Paul Kueter, a concert pianist I might add, had recommended me to Iliano and made arrangements for the audition.  I’ll skip to the chase.  I wasn’t hired and it was a paying gig.

I was instructed to sit in a large chair facing the lady [whose name I could never remember until it was in the newspaper]  – Barbara Sheridan – [one of the drama coaches and Iliano’s COMPANION, Westfield Leader March 29, 1990] on my left and Iliano on my right.  It was a huge room with a loft and staircase that descended on the far right of the room.  From where I sat I could see up into the loft where there were doors that must have gone to rooms.  There was a piano in the room but I was oddly enough not asked to audition.

Instead, these two odd characters drilled me with questions and at one point, burned into my memory, or to quote the crackpot, Christine Blasey Ford, “Indelible in the Hippocampus”, was the moment when the woman gushed “OH you must meet” and Iliano stood and said, yes, here comes my PROTOGE.  I had glimpsed a wraith at the top of the stairs and this skinny, what I thought was a druggie, descended the stairs with a blank look on her face as these two adults just fawned over her.

Now back in 1971, I had read enough Mika Waltari and Hans Van Loon, and Shakespeare, plus I had seen enough film noire to have alarm bells go off.  I did want the job.  It was going to pay well ($7 an hour) and I was only 17.  But I also had that feeling portrayed in the song Hotel California where the singer is racing for the exit.

Hi.  Blah blah  OH you two are in the same class (12th grade).  Mmm, never saw this skinny kid before and I’m in honors classes but smile, the job pays well.

The girl, whose name I didn’t even pick up on, just looked at me and then went back upstairs.

Wait, that’s odd, right?

What was really odd was I felt like the girl had a cloud or veil or shadow or something engulfing her.  My entire being wanted to be as far away from her as I could get.

I have one of those faces that is very expressive – or so I’m told – so I think the reason I wasn’t hired was I had waves of utter revulsion and horror washing over my face as I tried to do a fake smile.

My parents picked me up and I remember saying that the people were creepy.

When the news hit that a family in town was found brutally murdered, and a manhunt was on the way for the head of the household, one John List, I shrugged it off.  I didn’t know a Patti List and went about my business.  Not that everyone in town wasn’t buzzing and yes we all drove by the house which would eventually get torched.  But I just didn’t think I had ever met her.  None of my friends had either.  There were over 700 students in my graduating class and I just had never encountered this girl.  Plus, as I would later find out, she ran with a bad crowd.

The horror of what happened in my hometown really ruined Christmas that year.  But again, I just didn’t think I had met Patti UNTIL Edwin Illiano was on the news when List was arrested in 1989.  I freaked out.  I slowly began to wake up to the fact that I had met Patti List about two weeks or less prior to her father shooting her in the jaw with an antique .22 caliber pistol!

THE second I saw that slimy drama wannabe, I leapt off the couch screaming MÉNAGE À TROIS, which triggered one of my mother’s rage attacks.  My colleague looked on in horror – both at the viciousness my mother could exude and my utter horror that I had actually met this creep and his protégé!  And that sick, sick feeling I got from the woman in whose home I had sat that night!

Over the years I would see what was in the news about the murders.  Then in preparing to write this blog post about sensing DEATH on Illiano’s protégé, I Googled just her name and drama club and freaked out yet again!  In 1991, Illiano made a FILM that got restored and uploaded to YouTube! 

VOMIT!

I was right.  Something sick was going on and luckily, I escaped unscathed.

In the film, Illiano RE-ENACTS having sex not only with Patti but with at least two other “girls” in the Drama Club.  OMG WHO DOES THAT?  And he had the “actress” portraying Patti read sexual fantasies from her diary, create black magic rituals, and use drugs.  Absent from the tittering on soft porn film was ANY mention of Barbara Sheridan which I found odd.

Rumors of Patti belonging to a coven were rampant.  At the trial we learned that “Late Thursday, Miller tried to introduce testimony from the Rev. Eugene Rehwinkel, the family’s pastor in Westfield, that Patricia List had given him a book, ‘The Treasury of Witchcraft.'(1) But Rehwinkel refused to testify about his conversations with Patricia or her father on the grounds that they were confidential talks”.  https://www.upi.com/Archives/1990/04/05/Sister-in-law-Accused-family-killer-dominated-by-bedridden-wife/2883639288000/

A few books were written about the murders and I just found an interesting comment.

“But time marches on. The drama workshop was disbanded shortly thereafter, probably due to the notoriety caused by the murders. I graduated high school, went to college, and went about my life. I’ve often thought about Pat over the years, and of course in my memory she is forever sixteen, strutting around a stage in a swimsuit as Stupefyin’ Jones or whispering to me more information than I ever wanted about experimenting with sex with her boyfriend. I think about her swishing around the ballroom at her house in a nearly Elvira-like witch costume, mercifully unaware of how she would be laid out on a sleeping bag in that very room three weeks later. But as the years pass, those thoughts become less frequent”.

https://brilliantatbreakfast.blogspot.com/2008/03/monster-has-died.html

I cannot identify “Brilliant Breakfast” but apparently she was one of the “close friends” and she is one of the “guests” at the Halloween party depicted in the 1991 film.  Note that the blogger writes “three weeks later”.  The party would have been on Saturday or Sunday.

The play was announced in the Thursday, November 11, 2021 edition of the Westfield Leader.  No one knew when the paper hit the newsstands that morning, that Patti had been dead for at least 40 hours!

In the creepy 1991 film, one gets the impression that Patti List was the star of the upcoming play but it clearly states that she was a “mere” “understudy”.  VERY interesting I must say.

I did NOT attend this.

My memory seems to recall that the audition was on a Tuesday after dinner so it was either October 26 or November 2. 

Several years ago, I saw a comment on one of the books on Amazon and contacted the writer.  She, like the blogger, had been in that drama club and knew Patti; but not well.  Both of us were creeped out as we learned over the years that Patti had been in a coven but it didn’t surprise either of us.  Oddly enough, my new friend was also interested in ghosts and we used to call each other to chat.  I called her the other day to catch up and to ask her if she had discovered the disgusting film.  She had not.  I then told her about it and we both gagged.

I cannot find a book which mentions Patti belonging to a coven but a keyword search yielded a review of a book about the murder of Jeannette DePalma who was murdered in Springfield, New Jersey adjacent to Westfield in August 1972.  I don’t’ recall this murder probably because I was attending college orientation sessions.

Why was this murder rumored to have been a Satanic rite back in 1972 but by 2021 it’s just a case of a stolen handbag and murder?????????

The film Illiano made is super creepy.  He portrays himself having a twisted “Lolita” type affair with the late Patti – so my gut wasn’t wrong.  There’s a scene where three girls skip around a dimly lit pentagram with candles only to snuff them out when Illiano emerges from a tent so I guess they all went camping?  The scenes marked “Lake Blue Heron – Summer 1971” were twisted.  Patti watching Illiano peeing on a tree – eeewwww.  I can’t believe anyone actually “acted” in this sick film but it confirms my gut feeling.  The only mention of this camp that I can find in the local paper is for Girl Scouts and that the camp was in Sparta. 

And sure enough, there is a scene where the actress reads from Patti’s diary – a diary that John List was rumored to have read.  In it she writes that she thought Illiano was “cute” – barf – and her friends thought she felt that way because, and I quote “I had done too many drugs”.  The film also has the diary stating that Patti wanted Illiano for some witchcraft rite – cue Satanic – saying he’d make the PURRFECT warlock.  So my gut screaming – this girl is on something – in retrospect was spot on. I don’t believe she was stoned on illegal 1971 marijuana but something a lot more dangerous.  I also do not remember her smelling like pot. 

All the “official” reports only admit that Patti smoked pot.  What I saw that night was not someone who had simply smoked pot.  Now that marijuana is legal in Nevada, I’ve seen several people who are heavy smokers. What I saw that night had a very different vibe. In the film, you see her put pills in some drink she then gave Illiano before they had all performed a sex ritual.  LSD was popular back then but I’ll never know for sure but I am positive she had just woken up from having taken something and had wandered downstairs just in time so I could be introduced. I may never find proof but I swear those two adults had a VERY unhealthy relationship with that teen.

(1)  Oddly enough, in one of the moves across country, I got rid of MY copy of Treasure of Witchcraft.  Witchcraft was VERY popular amongst teenage girls in Westfield but I didn’t know anyone that actually did anything with it. I even attended several slumber parties where we performed the exact same parlor game as portrayed in The Craft.

I will confess that the last time I participated in this party game was when I was the one being lifted. My friends screamed when, so they said as they dropped me, I, um, levitated the last couple of inches towards the ceiling on my own. A couple tried to break my fall but I remember “jumping” and landing on my feet. The party came to an abrupt end and I was never invited to another party. Two of my friends became ardent Christians that summer and didn’t want ANYTHING to do with me unless I converted. I still have dreams of levitating up to ceilings but they’re only dreams – I hope.

This a a FANTASTIC blog post with information I never saw before!

https://the-history-girls.blogspot.com/2018/02/light-as-feather-art-of-levitation-by.html

https://murderpedia.org/male.L/l/list-john-emil.htm

In summary, this was the first time that I sensed DEATH on someone. In November 1965, my parents took me on the SS. Oceanic for a cruise from New York (before the dock strikes ruined cruising) to Nassau in the Bahamas. We ended on a glass bottom boat with a family from New Jersey. Their children were around my age and we had a great time spotting sea turtles. The Oceanic was brand new and couldn’t dock near land. We had to take a tender. A much smaller ship that looked like it was in desperate need of paint was docked next to the tender.

My dad, who was always calm, cool, laid back, mellow, just the nicest guy on the planet, suddenly went ballistic and grabbed the man by the shoulders and started screaming “YOU CAN”T GET ON THAT FIRE TRAP – IT’S GOING TO BURN AND SINK TO THE BOTTOM OF THE OCEAN!!!! ” He then screamed that we had a suite – it was a very nice stateroom but hardly a suite as we know them to be now. “DON’T get on that thing! Your family can stay with us!”

The poor man pushed my dad away and grabbed his family and ran for the gang plank and got on. My mom had a helluva time calming my dad down.

All these years, I thought that the ship we saw docked was the one that sank that night. We got the distress signal but we were too far out to sea. The SS. Yarmouth DID catch fire that night! If found a detailed blog that is now offline but the cached version is excellent.

“Tony bought these postcards on his travels – the first shows the SS Yarmouth, on which they enjoyed their Bahamas cruise.

The second shows the SS Yarmouth with its sister ship SS Yarmouth Castle, which also ran pleasure cruises from Miami to Nassau.

In November 1965, just 11 months after Tony and Colin’s trip, the Yarmouth Castle caught fire and sank during a cruise, with appalling consequences. The tragedy would change maritime safety laws forever…

I trust the author of the blog will not mind me re-creating the information here as the author was “touched” by two ship fires!

On 12 November 1965, the Yarmouth Castle set sail from Miami for a pleasure cruise to Nassau. There were 376 passengers and 176 crew on board, making a total of 552.

Shortly before 1am, when the boat was 60 miles from Nassau, a badly burned passenger staggered from a stairwell and collapsed on deck. From that moment, events took place at dizzying speed.

It would later emerge that a cabin – which was already excessively hot, being above the boiler room, and which had exposed flammable insulation – had been used as a storeroom, crammed full of mattresses, paint cans and other items. One mattress, pressed right up against the ceiling light, ignited as a result.

The ship’s fire alarms failed to sound, the sprinkler system failed to activate, and as the blaze burst from the cabin, it raced at dizzying speed through the liner’s wooden superstructure, and its wood-panelled corridors, decks and ventilation system.

When the onboard fire hoses didn’t have enough water pressure to fight the flames, the bridge was consumed before the crew could radio for help.

Most passengers were woken by the sound of screaming. Many had to break their portholes to escape their cabins – their windows had been painted shut. Terrified, they climbed ropeladders to the decks.

With the front half of the boat rapidly consumed by flames, the passengers crammed to the rear of the decks, hunting for life jackets and lifeboats. As there had been no information on evacuation procedures provided, no-one knew what to do.

Some of the crew showed incredibly bravery, even giving away their own lifejackets. But not all behaved heroically, or even ethically.

As the ship blazed brightly in the darkness, it was spotted by two other crafts in the area.

As they raced towards the Yarmouth Castle, the Finnish freighter Finnpulp repeatedly attempted to radio Nassau to raise the alarm. They received no reply.

It wasn’t until 1.36am – 40 minutes after the fire began – that the Finnpulp managed to contact the US Coast Guard in Miami and report the unfolding disaster. By then an American liner, Bahama Star, was also rushing towards the burning cruise ship.

Finnpulp’s Captain John Lehto was appalled when the first lifeboat to leave the burning boat rowed up to their stern.

Although it could seat 40, there were only 20 survivors on board, and of those, only four were passengers. None were women or children.

The remaining 16 were crew members – including the Yarmouth Castle’s captain, Byron Voutsinas.

Furious, Captain Lehto took the passengers onboard, but ordered the captain and crew: ‘Go back and look for more survivors.’

The next two lifeboats to escape the burning ship contained only crew.

In total, only six of the Yarmouth Castle’s 13 lifeboats were successfully launched – several burned before they could be launched, while the ropes of others jammed in the winches, as they had been painted over.

Because they were all missing rowlocks, the lifeboats had to be paddled like canoes.

Desperate to save the trapped passengers, the crews of the Finnpulp and Bahama Star took their own lifeboats and motor boats to line up beside the burning ship.

The rescuers later recalled the screams and yells, the sounds of breaking wood and glass – and the constant, low groaning of steam being forced through the ship’s whistle.

Passengers swarmed down ropes and rope ladders – or simply jumped, then clung to chairs, mattresses, suitcases and other items in the cold water.

As the blaze consumed the liner, four planes sent by the U.S Coastguard arrived. But even flying 4,000 feet overhead, they were nearly engulfed by smoke and flames.

In a last ditch rescue attempt, Finnpulp pulled up so close thatpassengers were able to jump across to safety. But when their own paint began to burn, they had to pull away.

The last passengers were rescued at 4am. By then, the Yarmouth Castle‘s hull was glowing red and the water around it was boiling. It sank in a roar of steam at 6.03am.

When they arrived at Nassau later that day, Finnpulp and Bahama Star were carrying 465 survivors – 291 passengers and 174 crew members.

14 critically injured people had already been airlifted to hospital, three of whom would later die. This took the final death toll to 90 – of which only two were crew.

The disaster shocked the world. Captain Voutsinas and other crew members were charged with violation of duty, and in March 1966, the U.S. Coastguard published a damning report on the tragedy.

There had been numerous safety violations in addition to those already described: Many cabins held no life jackets, and no fire doors were closed during the blaze.

Although required by American law, the Yarmouth Castle did not have three inflatable liferafts, or two radio operators, on board.

However, it emerged that as it was an older ship, and because it was registered under the Panamanian flag, the liner only needed to conform to far less stringent international safety conventions.

Following the tragedy, the Safety of Life at Sea (SOLAS) law was updated to include expanded and enhanced safety regulations, requiring fire drills, safety inspections and structural changes to older ships.

Any vessel carrying more than 50 overnight passengers is now required to be built entirely of non-combustible materials such as steel.

You can watch Pathe newsreel footage of the survivors disembarking at Nassau here: https://youtu.be/ZZ0gvZ72RoY

I am indebted to Wikipedia’s entry on this topic (this account is a truncated retelling) – https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/SS_Yarmouth_Castle

Some sobering photos of the fire and of survivors arriving at Nassau can be found here: http://flashbackmiami.com/2014/11/12/ss-yarmouth-castle-fire/

I am incredibly glad that Tony (my father) and Colin were not on that particular cruise.

It it an appalling, devastating disaster and our hearts go out to all who died so tragically, all who survived it, and all who lost loved ones or were in any way affected.

Additional note by Tony:

Tiffany’s account above is quite chilling for me.

I only found out recently (when I was looking for a picture of the SS Yarmouth) that its sister ship the SS Yarmouth Castle had sunk.

However, there was no mention of the shocking events linked to its sinking, and the resulting death toll.

I can only assume that the ship we were on, the SS Yarmouth, was equally a death trap – an accident waiting to happen.

It’s good to know that today’s very high safety standards on cruise ships are the result of this terrible incident. At least some good came out of it.

This tragedy happened in November 1965, when Colin and I were at sea again, this time on a German cargo ship working our passage from Los Angeles to Auckland, New Zealand. More about that in later letters.