Michael Clark

Paul, I don't send people off to find something in a massive ducument like the WCR. I provide the quote. If I can't take the time to provide the quote I qualify my answer with an "IIRC" or similar statement. Your mode is disrespectful.

Paul, incorrect, Larry Crafard comes in second to Ruth Paine.

Paul, do you have a citation or quote for this, or are you just making it up? dev·o·tee ˌdevəˈtē,ˌdevəˈtā/ noun noun: devotee; plural noun: devotees a person who is very interested in and enthusiastic about someone or something. "a devotee of classical music" synonyms: enthusiast, fan, lover, aficionado, admirer; More informalbuff, bum, freak, nut, fiend, fanatic, addict, maniac "a devotee of rock music" a strong believer in a particular religion or god. "devotees of Krishna" synonyms: follower, adherent, supporter, advocate, disciple, votary, member, stalwart, fanatic, zealot; More believer, worshiper "devotees thronged the temple"

Says the guy who seldom provides quotes and citations for the myths that he perpetuates.

Juts a couple points, for now. -------I want to suggest that Ruth Paine gets attention, scrutiny and black eyes here, on this forum, that are significantly out of proportion to any role she had. Paul Trejo is to thank for that because of his zealous, over-the-top insistence on her saintliness. We end up spending so much effort in refuting Paul's folly that we dig deeper and look harder and scrutinize he story more than it deserves. Paul's zealotry has the opposite effect that he indents. ------- If Veciana met LHO and DAP, as I believe they did, in early September, that would point to LHO's involvement in the plot, from that time at least. This timeframe agrees with Gene's analysis, above.

Thanks for that Gene, I think Ruth gave lengthy answers. I'll venteure to say that Crafard was quite the opposite (I have read it closely, and re read a lot of it, but I am going by memory here)

Welcome Jason, The above quote is simply not the case with Trejo. And that's the problem. But you sound very aware of the situation so I won't belabor it here.

Isn't there a video of Conally describing hearing something drop? I could swear I saw that video.

By one count, Larry Crafard came in with around 3900 questions, Ruth with 800. It doesn't sound right to me. I found this on Greg Burnham's site. -------------------------/- "One gets an array of strange images reading the testimonies in the Warren Report. Some of them are short and sweet, some are seemingly pointless, others are boringly long and don’t lead anywhere and many simply just have a strange focus. At 10:45pm on the 1st of April 1964 a fellow by the name of Curtis Laverne “Larry” Crafard was called to testify. He was one of many peripheral witnesses that for some reason were of interest to the Commission. Crafard worked in the Carousel Club as a “handyman” for Jack Ruby. When the shots occurred on Elm Street he was allegedly asleep in a room behind the bar; the Carousel Club was several blocks away from Dealey Plaza. Exactly why the Commission felt the need for an employee at Ruby’s nightclub to explain his whole life in over 3900 questions is a sheer mystery, especially when he was neither a suspect nor a close witness to the killing. Larry Crafard’s testimony – talk about a strange hearing. The inquiry into Crafard’s life and activities continued on for more than two days and contained, as we have said, over 3900 questions; they talked about hitch hiking, lunch money, former brothers in law and just about anything under the sun that seemingly didn’t have anything to do with the Kennedy assassination. When Crafard mentioned that Ruby had a feminine way about him, the Commission would ask him if Ruby lisped. They also asked if George Senator lisped. Apparently and for some weird reason they thought that lisping was a sign of homosexuality. The whole read is crazy. Another person that the Commission spent a lot of time and questions on was Ruth Paine, Marina Oswald’s landlady/alleged CIA handler. Mrs. Paine was also far away from the crime scene. Nevertheless, she was apparently important enough to be questioned for hours on five different occasions in 1964. All in all the Commission asked her approximately 800 questions. Crafard and Paine were seemingly more important than most of the other witnesses; Mrs. Paine certainly was a big “help” in creating the negative image of Lee Harvey Oswald -------------------------- http://assassinationofjfk.net/the-warren-commission-a-brilliant-deception/

If there was something on this in the Yeltsin Cache, we would probably know it; yet.... There is no mention of his university application in his diary. From this thread: I am not clear as to what Lawrence was referring.

This guy might agree with you.. Members 31 posts Report post Posted December 12, 2010 No one has mentioned any evidence yet in this thread,I thought for sure that I was going to read all about it in this thread but apparently a definition of the word evidence is in order. The most compelling circumstance for a conspiracy is that there seems to be too much evidence against Oswald, so I could see where one may start to doubt that all that evidence could be pointing that clearly to one person but on the other hand I suppose it could if he did it and knew that he was going to be caught. He was really sloppy about this whole thing and left a ton of evidence, this is not a tough case to crack if you are willing to accept the truth about it but I suppose that dreaming up sinister assassiantion plots and theories with nothing to support them can be quite a nice hobby if you like that kind of stuff. Quote Quote this

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Debate something, David. Leave your snark and perversion wherever you keep your snark and perversion.

Take your findings elsewhere.

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I have this cooler. It's an old, ordinary plastic cooler that I have had for a long time. It really is exceptionally ordinary except for one thing: It makes a signature creeking sound when it is opened. I love this cooler. I can be camping with a boatload of folks and, amidst a late-night cacophony of nonsense, I can hear, from a distance, the tell-tale creek of my cooler letting me know that someone is scavenging my stash for a beer. The voice of the cooler would go unnoticed to me, or at most as a minor annoyance, if it were not for a very cool night I spent camping in northwest Colorado. In 2001, I took my six month old Jeep on a mountain and desert state trek after being laid off with a severance package. I left the Teton area of Wyoming one day, passing through a sliver of Idaho and into northwest Colorado before it was time to find a place to camp. My map indicated a camping area, near a reservoir, up in some hills not far from the highway I was following; so I made my way there. I looked about the place and saw nothing very interesting. I did come upon about 6 pelts, from what I thought might be muskrats. They were stripped clean of flesh and turned inside-out. I thought it was strange and I assumed that they might have been illegally taken and ditched to avoid approaching authorities. I don't know anything about furs but I could tell that they were very nice and could see how they might be valuable. Being a hunter I wanted to get them to someone who might be able to conserve or use them; but I thought better of that and kept looking for a campsite. It was a rather nice area, if barren of forest and trees. I set up camp on a hill overlooking the reservoir. I was completely alone. Following my daily routine that I had established early in my trip, I cooked, cleaned, sat down with a six-pack and an atlas, and began to ponder my next days journey. I had no plan. It became dark, I grew tired. Then a set of headlight beams started tracing around the sky as a vehicle made its way up the access road and appeared on the opposite side of the lake from me. It wound partway around the lake until it stopped after some maneuvering. I could see headlights pointing onto the water and figured out that they were unloading a boat and some gear. After a few minutes, the commotion stopped, I heard the truck doors close, and the truck started moving and began to head up my way. I could tell that I had been noticed, and the folks in the truck were coming to check me out. It was an uneasy couple minutes for me, alone, unarmed, no communications and my whereabouts unknown to anyone. I had considered vacating my site to an observable distance but decided to hope for the best and be the friendly traveller. The truck approached and the driver courteously switched from the headlights to parking lights and parked; I heard a "hello" as the occupants got out and approached. There were two guys and they repeated their greeting and walked up to me. I returned the greeting and we talked for a while. They heard about my trip, expressed admiration for the endeavor and explained that they were going to be fishing in the reservoir for a few hours. Before moving on, one of the guys said "do you like trout". I said "absolutely" and he walked away as he said "alright" with some emphasis. They drove down to the boat and disembarked as I went back to my chair, thinking of my sleeping bag and camp mat. As I let myself wind down from the recent encounter I noticed a crimson glow outlining the hills and wearily wondered what I was looking at; hoping it was not any cause for interruption of my imminent snooze. I tried to let my relaxed state of mind take over as I stared into the fire and failed to avoid questions as to what might be causing the glow in the sky over the hills. The deep red hue had me assuming it was a fire somewhere but my mind went through a host of other options before I had to look up again. It was growing slowly and unsteadily, and I had to rule-out fire as the cause because it was so intermittent. Then I noticed that it was moving in rose colored waves and sheets. Originating strongest at the skyline the colors weakened towards the center of sky as the waves rolled and lapped up against the dark sky as if it were a sparkling black sandy beach at night at the edge of a sea of luminescent blood. After a few moments I realized that I was looking at a completely red Aurora Borealis; something I did not know existed. I was dumbstruck with awe at what I was seeing. I had never seen the Northern Lights before and had imagined that I never would; but here I was watching great scarlet splashes, spokes and spikes striking at the star filled sky with unbelievable speed; revealing a perspective which confirmed the fact that all this luminous noise was occurring at a tremendous distance from my location. After a while, I realized that I was not breathing and my chest was tight. I was gripped by a tension that I had never experienced before, a feeling I would not have expected or imagined unless I had just met my maker. I made several attempts, as time passed, to relax, and enjoy this cosmic show as if it were produced for my entertainment. My soul was clearly not convinced about the entertainment angle I was trying take on the spectacle; anxiety and tension continued to build. Before I realized it, 2 hours had passed and I may have had three sips of my beer. Suddenly I let out a Huge exhausted sigh. The brilliant show in the night sky had worn me down, exhausting me physically and emotionally from the tension and tumultuous beauty I was witnessing. I was spent and went to bed, dismayed that I was turning my back on a phenomena that I would probably never see again. As I immediately fell into an exhausted sleep I was briefly concerned that if something should happen during the night, around my tent, I would slumber through it, oblivious until it was too late. And then I slept, deeply. At some point in the night my consciousness was ever so slightly aroused by a creeking sound followed by a thump. That's all I remember from my sleep as I woke the next morning, yawning and rubbing my eyes and trying to mentally reconnect my brain to my legs and feet; I had slept very deeply. In due course I was out of my tent and slowly fussing around, preparing for breakfast. I opened my cooler, and the creeking movement of the lid reminded me of the sound I heard during the night. As I was trying to get my sleepy head around the noise that seemed like a faint dream, I reached for a package in the cooler that I couldn't identify. I unpacked one freezer bag from another and realized that there were five dressed rainbow trout inside. It took a few minutes to realize that I had not bought and forgotten about them. Then the previous nights puzzled pieces came together and I had a most delicious and thankful breakfast for the next three days, compliments a couple of Colorado fisherman who must have had a fantastic night fishing and enjoying the northern lights. Whenever I hear my cooler open up, I smile. Hi, Joe, Do You see a field, below these words that say "Ryply to this topic"? If so, Click in there and a window should open up in which you could post your reply.

This is not a particularly remarkable story; but it is about my initiation into the belief that spirits linger in this world after death. I was having dinner and drinks at the home of a friend of mine; he is an older guy. It seemed to me that he had a good buzz going. Glazed eyes, a fixed smile, and a reluctance to make eye contact were unusual for him. He was lamenting the final days of a neighbor and friend; an old man, whom he spent a lot of time taking care of up until his death. He was revealing some details of this experience; and it had the essence of a confession. Their was a sense of guilt that he was imparting in this conversation. The guilt was entirely unjustified, as he could not have done much about the circumstances and final outcome. Over the next year or two I had a similar experience, caring for my father as he died from Lou Gherig's disease and dementia. For all I did to care for him there were times that I did not do enough, and those failings bother me to this day. This is only relevant in as much as I can, now, understand this helpless guilt. It was those kinds of failings that my friend was lamenting that night while we were eating and drinking. During a lull in the conversation, while he was uncharacteristically staring a thousand yards away, in a modest sized kitchen, with the glazed eyes and resigned smile, that i felt a cold space move through my own bodily space. I can't say that I got a chill; it was different. I looked at him and asked if he felt that; and without looking at me, and with no excitement; he said "yes". I knew then that this spirit stays close to him; for better or for worse; and for the first time I became a believer in such things.

One night I was hunting in the Adirindack Mountains of NY. I left camp at around 3:AM to climb a mountain that I had scouted the previous day. It was Muzzleloading season. I was about half way up when I heard a scream just like another member described. I would further describe it as an insane wouman, being brutally murdered. All bets were off at the moment regarding what were just fairy tales, myths, harpies, sirens and bogeymen; the were suddenly all real and I wished I had not found out at that moment, alone on a mountainside in the middle of the night. A complete chill and shudder came through in a wave across my body. I dropped to my buckled knees. I really thought I was done for but realised that I had to do something to defend my self. I tried to load my gun but the shaking and shuddering were too much and I could not get it loaded. Of course I was fine and was on my way in a few minutes. I was paying no attention to the voice in my head that told me I should be trying to find the woman that made that noise. Over some time and after some research, the best candidate for the identity of that creature that I could find was that it was a bobcat. To be sure, it sounded exactly like a woman. It was uncanny; and farghing scary as hell! It sounded like this, but higher and smoother. https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=y58g_nvMIRw

On the same trip I went to Canyonlands NP in Utah and drove the White Rim trail; down along the Colorado river and back up along the Green River. As I drove along the Green River, along some flats, I saw a bunch of bicyclists entering a campground. As bikers rode in, they were all greeted with lots of cheers and celebration; they must have had a long trek.I continued on and started heading up Hardscrabble hill. Towards the top, a Cherokee was heading towards me, and as we both slowed down, to allow each other to pass, we came upon a cyclist lying on the side of the road, near his bike. He had died. He was already grayish in color, and we knew it was too late to help him. He was in his mid-40's and obviously in good shape. He had his arms articulated in a way that indicated he was trying to get his backpack around to the front of him when he died.After talking with the Cherokee driver, we decided that he would head to the campground where the bicyclists were and I would head on to inform the ranger.I had never seen a dead person outside of a wake, so that fairly well creeped me out.

In 2001 I took my Jeep on a trip. I did about 9000 miles in six weeks, from NY to Whyoming, down through the mountain states and back. Somewhere west of Denver, along i70, I pulled off to find a place to camp. I rolled into a very small town. I believe it was just a mile long, dead end strip, With houses and stores, and cars parked here and there along side the road. At the time I didn't take particular notice of anyone or anything. It would turn out that my mind picked up a couple small details that I would remember a little while later; namely, three young guys sitting on a stoop and a tan sedan parked in front of them. They had noticed my coming and going from town. I drove away; possibly heading up the interstate a short distance, or passing under the interstate, heading south on rough roads. In a short time I had taken a sharp left turn and, in about a hundred yards, I came to a dead end in the woods that looked to be a good spot to camp. I turned the jeep around and started unloading some things. I just happened to be looking towards the turn I had come around; when I noticed the front two or three feet of a tan sedan poke around the corner, lurch to a stop and the back away, out of site.. I immediately put my observations from town together and knew I was in trouble. Those three guys had me pegged for a lone traveller looking for a place to spend the night and figured I might find this spot. They had pulled around the corner far enough to see my jeep. But not far enough that I or the driver saw each other I quickly tossed my stuff in the jeep tore out of there. When I came around the corner I passed their car which they had pulled into a small turn-around. As I whizzed passed them I could see that they were In the middle of grabbing things from the car and trunk and putting on different shirts. I cannot be 100% sure but I believe that I would not have had a good night if I didn't catch a glimpse of that bumper.

I copied a few stories, which I wrote, from the linked sacary stories thread in the first post. I will edit them a bit because when I posted them on the the other site they needed some attention. 4 of my scary stories to follow....

The admins have opened a Latin Inscriptions sub-forum. I would have contributed more by now but most things I have wanted to post require finding a linkable JPG (or other) URL; and I have not found them. Here is a link to the subforum: http://educationforum.ipbhost.com/forum/280-latin-the-language-the-inscriptions-and-the-use/

If you see fit to open an archeology subforum paerhaps James or John Simkin (UK) could ask some of the former Time Team cast to join the forum. They have become iconic figures to me since I have become such a fan of the show since I discovered it a month or so ago. I am no fan of the Telly, so this is unheard-of for me. I didn't quote James in this reply because I haven't seen him weigh-in on this idea yet, and I don't know if he is keen on-it. Cheers, Michael

"A paraffin test was applied to Oswald's hands and right cheek; his hands reacted positively, whereas his cheek did not." http://mcadams.posc.mu.edu/factoid2.htm