My family moved to Elmhurst Drive when I was two; my dad was working at the time in a factory with S. Davidson's father (Nashville is in Davidson County). My aunt worked for the only OBGYN in town and had a baby Patti while living in a duplex; she then moved to Tallahassee,Fla on Berkshire Drive. Around that same time, I was in Mrs. Cox's first grade class and another girl Patti had a mother who died from a brain aneurysm after Mrs. Cox played in my naval under my dress.
Rotherwood mansion in the area is owned by an OBGYN and sits next to the street Big Elm. A police officer had both of his legs broken not long ago a bit further down the road near Sensabaugh tunnel. The area is supposedly haunted. There was a memorial elm planted at the Oklahoma City bombing site which was on my dad's birthday as was Waco. There was a more recent fire at the old pressman's home which was also on his birthday weekend. Patty Hearst was captured at her Berkeley apartment and was held hostage until she did as her captors wished. My aunt (connected to the Cox family by marriage) and her family grew up in SW Virginia near where Gov. Kaine's wife grew up; there is a Burke's Union church in the Blackwater/Clinchport area. I ran into a pharmacy student from Virginia at the pharmacy across from the duplex who said that she went there; she went to school in Richmond, and the situation seems obviously quite staged. The only answer I have gotten from anyone related to wierd coincidences was the advise to write a book. I suppose that my book will be on the extreme tactics that people around here use to manipulate and control others to get what they want.
I called the families across the street from us on Elmhurst the HAZE MAZE. There were two Hazel families. Ralph and Hazel had an old truck with a camper on the back similar to the one parked for a long time at the Advanced Auto nearby. There son Bucky drowned at the state park, and they moved to Bluefield, WVa. Guy and Hazel had a son who died when hit by a car as he was walking along the road. They moved to the county seat. The two families in between the Hazels had fathers who worked for the same factory and also had police connections (a nephew); one of the children from these houses became director of an HCA pharmacy shortly after my brother died. HCA was Frist owned (Tom and Bill). There was a family down the street that had a son Tommy Thomas, the father was Bill. They lived across the street from the Carsons who also had a Tom and Bill in their family. The HCA pharmacy director's son later died in Nashville, and he told me that his sister, who was married to a Kingsport physician son of a physician, got a divorce in Texas and went in to the military. His wife Pam and his sister had the same names. Another pharmacist that I was working with at the time, Walter, our pharmacy vice president, said he was going to accept an HCA offer for a fast track management position. I was also working with him when my brother died and a technician named Pam who moved to Seattle after getting married. There later was a raver's mass murder in the capital hill district. A teddy bear twin shot up a party there more recently; about 1/3 of the people who were dressed up as dead became really dead. Niki King moved to Washington after she finished school and left the area. Wierd coincidences 101. The haze maze/insider trading/2 sets of books. Things always come back to the same place.
We had a family more recently from Ohio down the street from us whose father worked at the same factory. The children were Matt, Courtney and Jenna. During a recent big storm, a monstrous tree behind that house fell and landed in the ditch. We have not had a storm recently that would have brought down a tree like that. A big red truck followed me into Lowe's parking lot with a bed full of wood; more than likely the tree had considerable assistance in hitting the ground, a storm combined with a stick of dynamite. One of the family's in the haze maze had a name that had to do with "neice. " Quite interesting since the family next door had a nephew in the police department. Haze neice would be a definite possibility in "Patsyland" and the land of cowboys and endless smoke signals. As previously stated, two pharmacists who work for another pharmacist named Guy purchased a house on Green Valley; the psychiatric hospital in Greeneville, President Andrew Johnson's birthplace, is Green Valley. (Send in the plays.)
Rotherwood mansion in the area is owned by an OBGYN and sits next to the street Big Elm. A police officer had both of his legs broken not long ago a bit further down the road near Sensabaugh tunnel. The area is supposedly haunted. There was a memorial elm planted at the Oklahoma City bombing site which was on my dad's birthday as was Waco. There was a more recent fire at the old pressman's home which was also on his birthday weekend. Patty Hearst was captured at her Berkeley apartment and was held hostage until she did as her captors wished. My aunt (connected to the Cox family by marriage) and her family grew up in SW Virginia near where Gov. Kaine's wife grew up; there is a Burke's Union church in the Blackwater/Clinchport area. I ran into a pharmacy student from Virginia at the pharmacy across from the duplex who said that she went there; she went to school in Richmond, and the situation seems obviously quite staged. The only answer I have gotten from anyone related to wierd coincidences was the advise to write a book. I suppose that my book will be on the extreme tactics that people around here use to manipulate and control others to get what they want.
I called the families across the street from us on Elmhurst the HAZE MAZE. There were two Hazel families. Ralph and Hazel had an old truck with a camper on the back similar to the one parked for a long time at the Advanced Auto nearby. There son Bucky drowned at the state park, and they moved to Bluefield, WVa. Guy and Hazel had a son who died when hit by a car as he was walking along the road. They moved to the county seat. The two families in between the Hazels had fathers who worked for the same factory and also had police connections (a nephew); one of the children from these houses became director of an HCA pharmacy shortly after my brother died. HCA was Frist owned (Tom and Bill). There was a family down the street that had a son Tommy Thomas, the father was Bill. They lived across the street from the Carsons who also had a Tom and Bill in their family. The HCA pharmacy director's son later died in Nashville, and he told me that his sister, who was married to a Kingsport physician son of a physician, got a divorce in Texas and went in to the military. His wife Pam and his sister had the same names. Another pharmacist that I was working with at the time, Walter, our pharmacy vice president, said he was going to accept an HCA offer for a fast track management position. I was also working with him when my brother died and a technician named Pam who moved to Seattle after getting married. There later was a raver's mass murder in the capital hill district. A teddy bear twin shot up a party there more recently; about 1/3 of the people who were dressed up as dead became really dead. Niki King moved to Washington after she finished school and left the area. Wierd coincidences 101. The haze maze/insider trading/2 sets of books. Things always come back to the same place.
We had a family more recently from Ohio down the street from us whose father worked at the same factory. The children were Matt, Courtney and Jenna. During a recent big storm, a monstrous tree behind that house fell and landed in the ditch. We have not had a storm recently that would have brought down a tree like that. A big red truck followed me into Lowe's parking lot with a bed full of wood; more than likely the tree had considerable assistance in hitting the ground, a storm combined with a stick of dynamite. One of the family's in the haze maze had a name that had to do with "neice. " Quite interesting since the family next door had a nephew in the police department. Haze neice would be a definite possibility in "Patsyland" and the land of cowboys and endless smoke signals. As previously stated, two pharmacists who work for another pharmacist named Guy purchased a house on Green Valley; the psychiatric hospital in Greeneville, President Andrew Johnson's birthplace, is Green Valley. (Send in the plays.)
There are several significant S (snake curves) in the area. The SLA symbol behind Patty Hearst in the picture on Wikipedia looks like a snake with 7 heads. There are 2 big S curves on Summerville Road. Niki King grew up near one, and Johnny Guy caught the bus there; S. Davidson has a trailer that sits at the middle near Moreland Drive and COPperfield (the cops). There is a white house and a RR track at the end of the road also. The dog groomers is at the other end of the same road. My exhusband purchased his dog Princeton, (now Winston) a small white poodle, from a lady whose house sits in the S curve on Gibson Mill Road near Robertson Street (the same street that the pharmacy board is on in Nashville) and the hospital. There is a large sign of someone running for office there; he was first married to a girl from the same high school that grew up with the exact same name that he has. I saw his exwife standing at a kitchen window when I dropped or picked up one of my children from Todd's, the dad of her friend who lived in the same apartments. These apartments are next to the church my aunt and her family attended upon moving to the area, and she introduced C. to another friend who turned out to be quite disruptive, who lied about her age and used C's ID, and whose dad Alan died shortly in Nashville after a brief illness. Strangely, C's friend Marcus knocked a hole in her bedroom door and she used a picture of her dad and the dog to cover it up.
There is another local pharmacist Marcum whose son works in the ER nearby with another employee named Bacon. Marcus/Marcum. S&M, isn't that some sort of sadistic ritual? Sadistic people have sadistic rituals and create other sadistical people in the process. Cregg, the rent- a- man guy recommended by Lowe's, called to say that he is returning Monday to replace the entire frame around a door that his helper did a poor job of notching so that a new countertop would fit; Cregg originally used a small piece of wood to make extra molding to cover up the extra damage. Cregg---EGG ?. Our exchange student Veronika brought as a house warming gift 4 eggs wrapped in wire; one of them had a hole punched in it upon arrival.
When I was growing up, my mother borrowed someone's bicycle, a boy's, to double head me down the street with me sitting on the front bar. The bike slid in the road right at the very end of the street in front of the Lawson's, and I fell out into the road. I do not know whose bike she used, but Bucky Carter was the only guy in the neighborhood at the time large enough to have a bike that size. Another time we went to Ghost down at Maggie Valley and as we were leaving to come down on the chair lift, I got in the seat with my mother; my dad and my brother were behind us. He was around 4 or 5. The worker slammed the bar down so hard it flew back up and my mother immediately jumped out of the seat and yelled for me to jump. By the time that I did, the chair had moved way down the hill. When I jumped and stood up, I was actually looking down into the canyon over a cliff. A family with 4 children who lived on our street moved to the last house on Glencliff which is a dead end off of Buschelew, their father Jack died not too long after that, and one of them grew up and married into Disney management ( I was told). There is a fork in the road with an S curve and a white church that either leads to their house or to the church where my aunt and her daughter attended when she moved here. It is a small world; it is not that small.
Another time, we came the back way from the movie and my mother hit a parked car near where there is now a chinese restaurant and a doughnut shop. My popcorn went everywhere. She went home without leaving a note and my father was furious and went back. Strangely, there was never anything else said about the incident. At Disney, after my children were born, we rented a stroller with a cover; I do not know how my son got out but when I looked under the cover after rolling over cobblestones, he was not there. I was frantic. Bob thought a minute and took off; he found him at the popcorn stand. My brother, Bucky Carter, and my exhusband are all dead. The ownders of a pharmacy near the university where I was working when my oldest daughter got into trouble in NC went to China for 2 weeks. My son has a friend whose mother is oriental and an MD for the university group; her son was married at the King and Prince in SC and married someone named Sara. They live in Atlanta. My aunt had friends from Atlanta who came to visit her when she arrived from Tallahassee with a mean dog named Gunsmoke and bought a house on Liberty Drive before the Al Gore election.
There was a building that collapsed in Chester, Virginia beside a RR track near Richmond a few days ago. The Chester Inn is located in Jonesborough and is the home of the National Storytelling Festival. I worked for a pharmacist when my children were small about one day per week. The police frequently came into his store. He hired a technician Barbara whose son Cliff was killed as a child in a gun accident; Barbara had a daughter Lori who worked there., and there was a another technician Kim who now teaches in the Rogersville area. This same pharmacist had a Christmas party at the Parson's Table in Jonesborough and brought a date with the same name as his exwife. Bill Parsons was over NASA around that time. My parents had family friends whose son went to work for the Johnson Space Center in Houston. My perception, once again from the direction that I am coming from, is that if one's story is good enough, a group of people can even get away with murder, possibly several of them. I call it like I see it.
There is a memorial bridge on Hidden Valley road next to the ball field, near the house of a court reporter and behind a big white house in an S curve. The bridge is dedicated to my seventh grade science teacher Paul; he called me by a name spelled with a "Q" for the first 1/3 of the year and was quite annoyed when I finally corrected him after a lengthy period of time; I doubt I cared and don't recall why I finally decided to correct him. My uncle in Clinchport, brother to the one on Robertson Street, has the same name. The teacher later committed suicide with a gun, and my name was spelled with a "Q" in my brother's obituary after he died. A more recent dead end street was built near the bridge named Remington Court (also the name of a gun brand), and there is a Terry and Alan who live on the street. I was working with a girl named Amanda in Virginia when a young man came in, the first customer of the day, with a bright red shirt on with a huge alligator mouth on it. Around lunch, a lady came in for benadryl because her husband had just been stung seven times by bees. That was the day that the Crocodile Hunter died from a stingray to his heart. This store is just up the hill from a sign at the foot of an exit ramp pointing to Holston Dam where my brother drowned. There is a technician there also whose last name is Stanley who told me his brother is a police officer. I have had several Stanley issues that have turned out to always be related to the police in some fashion. There was a pharmacist Stanley where I worked when the OBGYN/NC issues started who was married to a Bennigan's manager; Bennigan's closed after they divorced. I was working on Stone Drive with someone named Tandy the day a small girl was attacked by a pitt bull near Bristol in a trailer park and her head was severely damaged; the police officer was Ramsey and the owner of the dog was Stanley. Tandy knew Stanley and received calls the entire day about the situation. Sometimes people get Tandy (trouble with a capital T); sometimes they get candy. The vet was Stan Sanders the evening we went to the ER vet from my aunt's party with Sylvester who was hit by a car; he said that his brother was a police officer. My daughter was followed in by a dog with a gun shot wound whose owner seemed to have something to do with the police also; then a parade of animals started. My oldest daughter lives on Stanley Avenue below Peachtree Street. I think that is one of the busiest streets in downtown Atlanta. My daughter had not had her drivers license too long when the pharmacy where I was working hired a pharmacist who had gone to school at Mercer in the Atlanta area. My position will NEVER change; the pit bull's of the world have little to no regard for road kill;they ust want to get to their destination, get what they want, when they want it, and the hell with everyone else that might happen to innocently wander into their paths or even worse, deliberately be maneuvered there It's patsyland, remember, and V is for vendetta.
Murder is not only a possibility in my mind; it is quite probable. It is quite probable that there has been more than one murder not "accounted for" in Patsyland, the land of endless smoke signals, and the home of the National Storytelling Festival because the people involved in the situation are quite good, masters at their craft.
There is another local pharmacist Marcum whose son works in the ER nearby with another employee named Bacon. Marcus/Marcum. S&M, isn't that some sort of sadistic ritual? Sadistic people have sadistic rituals and create other sadistical people in the process. Cregg, the rent- a- man guy recommended by Lowe's, called to say that he is returning Monday to replace the entire frame around a door that his helper did a poor job of notching so that a new countertop would fit; Cregg originally used a small piece of wood to make extra molding to cover up the extra damage. Cregg---EGG ?. Our exchange student Veronika brought as a house warming gift 4 eggs wrapped in wire; one of them had a hole punched in it upon arrival.
When I was growing up, my mother borrowed someone's bicycle, a boy's, to double head me down the street with me sitting on the front bar. The bike slid in the road right at the very end of the street in front of the Lawson's, and I fell out into the road. I do not know whose bike she used, but Bucky Carter was the only guy in the neighborhood at the time large enough to have a bike that size. Another time we went to Ghost down at Maggie Valley and as we were leaving to come down on the chair lift, I got in the seat with my mother; my dad and my brother were behind us. He was around 4 or 5. The worker slammed the bar down so hard it flew back up and my mother immediately jumped out of the seat and yelled for me to jump. By the time that I did, the chair had moved way down the hill. When I jumped and stood up, I was actually looking down into the canyon over a cliff. A family with 4 children who lived on our street moved to the last house on Glencliff which is a dead end off of Buschelew, their father Jack died not too long after that, and one of them grew up and married into Disney management ( I was told). There is a fork in the road with an S curve and a white church that either leads to their house or to the church where my aunt and her daughter attended when she moved here. It is a small world; it is not that small.
Another time, we came the back way from the movie and my mother hit a parked car near where there is now a chinese restaurant and a doughnut shop. My popcorn went everywhere. She went home without leaving a note and my father was furious and went back. Strangely, there was never anything else said about the incident. At Disney, after my children were born, we rented a stroller with a cover; I do not know how my son got out but when I looked under the cover after rolling over cobblestones, he was not there. I was frantic. Bob thought a minute and took off; he found him at the popcorn stand. My brother, Bucky Carter, and my exhusband are all dead. The ownders of a pharmacy near the university where I was working when my oldest daughter got into trouble in NC went to China for 2 weeks. My son has a friend whose mother is oriental and an MD for the university group; her son was married at the King and Prince in SC and married someone named Sara. They live in Atlanta. My aunt had friends from Atlanta who came to visit her when she arrived from Tallahassee with a mean dog named Gunsmoke and bought a house on Liberty Drive before the Al Gore election.
There was a building that collapsed in Chester, Virginia beside a RR track near Richmond a few days ago. The Chester Inn is located in Jonesborough and is the home of the National Storytelling Festival. I worked for a pharmacist when my children were small about one day per week. The police frequently came into his store. He hired a technician Barbara whose son Cliff was killed as a child in a gun accident; Barbara had a daughter Lori who worked there., and there was a another technician Kim who now teaches in the Rogersville area. This same pharmacist had a Christmas party at the Parson's Table in Jonesborough and brought a date with the same name as his exwife. Bill Parsons was over NASA around that time. My parents had family friends whose son went to work for the Johnson Space Center in Houston. My perception, once again from the direction that I am coming from, is that if one's story is good enough, a group of people can even get away with murder, possibly several of them. I call it like I see it.
There is a memorial bridge on Hidden Valley road next to the ball field, near the house of a court reporter and behind a big white house in an S curve. The bridge is dedicated to my seventh grade science teacher Paul; he called me by a name spelled with a "Q" for the first 1/3 of the year and was quite annoyed when I finally corrected him after a lengthy period of time; I doubt I cared and don't recall why I finally decided to correct him. My uncle in Clinchport, brother to the one on Robertson Street, has the same name. The teacher later committed suicide with a gun, and my name was spelled with a "Q" in my brother's obituary after he died. A more recent dead end street was built near the bridge named Remington Court (also the name of a gun brand), and there is a Terry and Alan who live on the street. I was working with a girl named Amanda in Virginia when a young man came in, the first customer of the day, with a bright red shirt on with a huge alligator mouth on it. Around lunch, a lady came in for benadryl because her husband had just been stung seven times by bees. That was the day that the Crocodile Hunter died from a stingray to his heart. This store is just up the hill from a sign at the foot of an exit ramp pointing to Holston Dam where my brother drowned. There is a technician there also whose last name is Stanley who told me his brother is a police officer. I have had several Stanley issues that have turned out to always be related to the police in some fashion. There was a pharmacist Stanley where I worked when the OBGYN/NC issues started who was married to a Bennigan's manager; Bennigan's closed after they divorced. I was working on Stone Drive with someone named Tandy the day a small girl was attacked by a pitt bull near Bristol in a trailer park and her head was severely damaged; the police officer was Ramsey and the owner of the dog was Stanley. Tandy knew Stanley and received calls the entire day about the situation. Sometimes people get Tandy (trouble with a capital T); sometimes they get candy. The vet was Stan Sanders the evening we went to the ER vet from my aunt's party with Sylvester who was hit by a car; he said that his brother was a police officer. My daughter was followed in by a dog with a gun shot wound whose owner seemed to have something to do with the police also; then a parade of animals started. My oldest daughter lives on Stanley Avenue below Peachtree Street. I think that is one of the busiest streets in downtown Atlanta. My daughter had not had her drivers license too long when the pharmacy where I was working hired a pharmacist who had gone to school at Mercer in the Atlanta area. My position will NEVER change; the pit bull's of the world have little to no regard for road kill;they ust want to get to their destination, get what they want, when they want it, and the hell with everyone else that might happen to innocently wander into their paths or even worse, deliberately be maneuvered there It's patsyland, remember, and V is for vendetta.
Murder is not only a possibility in my mind; it is quite probable. It is quite probable that there has been more than one murder not "accounted for" in Patsyland, the land of endless smoke signals, and the home of the National Storytelling Festival because the people involved in the situation are quite good, masters at their craft.
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