The Thrill Report #040701
Bob Dylan and Me

“But, how come you're quoting Dylan, a major, big time Jew of the 1st degree, just honored by Jews with an Oscar for a horrid little ditty he wrote and sang with his even more horrid ‘voice?’” asked XXX in response to TTR TEAR RECALL.

I gave it some thought and wrote the following response:

I discovered my “splice” to Bob Dylan in 1962 but didn’t know what it was, who he was, how it worked, or that there was even such a thing as being “spliced”. It wasn’t until 1968, after years of hearing him sing the words right out of my life, returning them to me as if they were his own, that I began to understand, in a deep and profound way, that he was intricately woven into my being in ways so strange as to be nearly incomprehensible, like an inter-dimensional, multidimensional, intergalactic web spider. I didn’t know it then, but it would require my “death” before I would begin to “grok” what it was all about. Nothing is simple when it comes to a Jew unless you are fortunate enough to crack one open.

“You raise up your head
And you ask, ‘Is this where it is?’
And somebody points to you and says, ‘It's his.’
And you say, ‘What's mine?’
And somebody else says, ‘Where what is?’

And you say, ‘Oh my God
Am I here all alone?’
Because something is happening
But you don't know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?”
--B. Dylan “Ballad of The Thin Man”

The first signs that there was a web and it was unraveling happened when Dylan was locked in a bitter dispute with his record company. I watched while he was trapped between worlds deeply engaged in negotiations with what I later came to recognize as d’evil, the Jewish music industry. Dylan was in the beginning stages of selling his soul and I was a very naive witness. Since I didn’t know what it was all about, I didn’t question what the heck he was doing inside my mind. At that time I didn’t know that he didn’t belong there even though Leonard Cohen had already warned me, albeit cryptically.

“You tell him to come in, sit down
But something makes you turn around
The door is open
You can’t close your shelter.”
--L. Cohen “The Stranger Song”

So there we were, me and Bobby, I on one side and his d’evil music handlers on the other. He desperately needed me at the time and even though it would never have occurred to me to deny him, I was indeed shutting him out with my entire being since I was using my mind for myself. I didn’t know that what I was doing was against Jewish law. I didn’t know that I was a “goy” and that Jews considered me a “farm animal”. I had never heard of the Talmud. I knew absolutely nothing about Jews or what they were. I just knew how wonderful it was to think my very own thoughts and fly high, and fly free. I loved it. I loved to think!

But the Jews were furious with me and began their campaign to ruin me. I was treated as if I was a criminal, an eavesdropper on my own thoughts! Would you believe that I actually experienced a feeling that it was somehow “nasty” to think? I was constantly hammered with a sense that it was somehow “illegal” to listen to myself! It makes sense now because I know that, at that time, my mind was occupied territory, to be used ONLY in the service of Jewish interests. It was in Jewish interests that Bob Dylan become a big recording star so he got to occupy a piece of my mind. It was also in Jewish interests that Barbra Streisand become a big star so she got to have my singing voice (which I got back in 1999). (See TTR NOT SO FUNNY, GIRL!)

“You got a lotta nerve
To say you are my friend
When I was down
You just stood there grinnin’.
Do you take me for such a fool
To think I’d make contact
With the one who tries to hide
What he don’t know
To begin with...”
--B. Dylan

Although I was crushed and insulted by these accusations, for some reason I sensed that it was the other way around. It was really Bob who had a “lotta nerve”. But I didn’t have time to dwell on it because I was being attacked mercilessly and driven from my Jewish owned and operated laboratory which was the apartment in Hollywood that my Jewish owner and operator had allowed me to temporarily call “home”. There I was, penniless, on the street...

“...with no direction home
Like a complete unknown
Like a rolling stone.”
--B. Dylan

I became homeless because I dared to attempt to reclaim myself as in “Know Thyself”. I rebelled against my Jewish handlers and in the midst of their pounding accusations of “biting the hand that fed me”, I escaped onto the highway between L.A. and San Francisco and wandered until, hungry, exhausted and defeated, I stumbled into a fancy hotel and without a dime to my name, dined on filet mignon and hot fudge sundaes and slept in a nice clean bed. I knew I should bolt before I was asked to pay the bill but frankly I was just too tired. “They’re going to put you in a concrete box,” my allies warned me the day I looked out the window at the construction site below and watched while they poured concrete. Still, forewarned or not, I was too tired to care. In my weakened state they caught me, or rather, I let them catch me because I was too tired to run. They did indeed put me in a “concrete box” where I sat for three months before they forwarded me on to a real cage.

“The white bird,
Just sits in her cage
Alone...”
--A Beautiful Day “White Bird”

So I sat in my cage for a year. I sat in my cage while they whooped it up in Woodstock. It was my party but I wasn’t allowed to go. I was locked in my cage for stirring up Love instead of war. My handlers didn’t like that. I made such nice wars for them. I was such a perfect weaponofmassdestruction. They had put too much into me to let me go so easily.

“MacArthur’s Park is melting in the dark
all the sweet green icing flowing down.
Someone left the cake out in the rain
I don’t think that I can take it
‘cause it took so long to bake it
and I’ll never have that recipe again
Oh no...”
--Richard Harris “MacArthur’s Park” A Tramp Shining

MacArthur’s Park was Vietnam and I, with my Project Monarch training, was the “cake” that “someone”, the inept, insipid CIA blunderers, left “out in the rain”. And their mighty hungry “lord” was not at all “pleased” that the “sweet green icing” was “flowing down” all over the place. What a mess they had on their hands.

Dylan was also out of commission and we both ended up sitting it out getting reconditioned. We were...

“...only [a] pawn[s] in their game.”
--B. Dylan

To pave the way for Dylan to become the so-called “superstar” that he is today, it was necessary to get rid of the competition. Bob Dylan, like Barbra Streisand, is the Wal Mart of music. Phil Ochs, Tim Buckley, John Lennon, Jim Morrison, Jimi Hendrix and Janis Joplin were all taken out to clear his path. Can you imagine Bob Dylan rising to the level of superstar that he occupies today, in the company of talent of that magnitude? Even Tom Rapp’s musical career was sabotaged, along with many other highly gifted musicians, because he was so good. So many musical genius’ have been herded into obscurity, their talents trivialized or crushed, to feed and support the Jewish penchant for monotheism in everything they do. Like their “lord”, they are a jealous people and when they are not worshiped properly, they deliver all manner of evil upon the offenders, unto the third and fourth generations.

Look at Barbra Streisand for example. She’s a mean-spirited, truly ugly, ultra rich Jewish sorceress who trapped her current husband the way a spider traps a fly. Did you notice that he got a cement print on Hollywood Blvd. when he married her? Does anyone even remember his name? Dr. Something or other? Mr. Barbra Streisand? Barbra Streisand should be called The Dirt Devil since she, like a vacuum cleaner, sucks up everything in sight. She ain’t singin’ much these days though, not since I busted her. (See TTR NOT SO FUNNY, GIRL!)

“I said to Hank Williams: how lonely does it get?
Hank Williams hasn't answered yet
But I hear him coughing all night long
A hundred floors above me
In the Tower of Song...”
--Leonard Cohen “Tower of Song” I’m Your Man

Leonard Cohen, inspite of and because of his “Jewish” connection, has been a great source of insider information for me. I know how to listen to him. Read the words to the above song. Hank Williams, a phenomenal singer and songwriter, supposedly “died” many years ago but he didn’t. He was “kidnapped” and forced to become a songwriting slave. All this time he’s been locked away “a hundred floors” above Leonard Cohen and writing songs for the talentless Jews. You could say Hank Williams is a REAL ghostwriter.

So back to XXX's question, I quote Dylan because most of the words belong to me. As for that "horrid little ditty", I haven't heard it but if it's "horrid" it probably belongs to him 'cause I ain't workin' on The Farm no more.

“I ain’t gonna work on Maggie’s Farm no more”
--B. Dylan “Maggie’s Farm” Bringing it all Back Home

NO! I ain’t gonna work on The Jew’s Farm no more, no how.

“I'm walking,
through streets that are dead
Walking,
walking with you in my head...”
--B. Dylan “Love Sick” Time Out Of Mind.

Jana Janus
The Rogue Butterfly
Scribe in the Ancient Language of Thrill