My story. 9/23/2017

When I was about 30, 13 years ago, I owned 2 houses and had $100k in the bank. I was a computer programmer and I had just finished writing the surveillance and Point-Of-Sale software that was in the Meijer's and Farmer Jack's chain. I wrote it all by myself.

Around that time, I started hearing the voice of God, and I started to listen to it. Before I started hearing the voice, a subliminal voice came into my head and asked, "Knock, knock. Can I come in?" I asked the voice, "Will it hurt?" And the voice responded, "Yes." And I said, "Okay." I really didn't have a choice.

After some time, and remember, I was 30 years old, I was attempting to decipher just who was the son of perdition, the 666 character in the Bible.

Jack Van Impe was on television trying to make Usama Bin Laden fit the 666 prophecy.

Whilst I was playing with a calculator and entertaining the idea of Usama Bin Laden being the antichrist of Revelation, but not really believing, the voice in my head said, "Try Jesus."

And I did, and Jesus equalled 666. I immediately wrote a computer program to decipher the whole Bible. I was surprised to learn that not only did Jesus equal 666, but so did the following words: Messiah, gospel, cross, Joshua (another name for Jesus), Lucifer, Jewish, clouds.

After that, the voice told me to go see Mr. Jose Luis de Jesus Miranda, in Florida, who claimed to be Jesus and had many followers in many countries and was tattooing his followers with the number 666. It was Friday, so I got in my car and decided to drive to Florida for the weekend.

On my way, I called my parents and told them I was on my way to Florida.

Unbelievable what happened next!

They called my job and told them I wasn't coming in again, EVER! They quit my job, of which I earned $150k in my last year! Then, when I returned, after an uneventful stay in Florida, (Jose, now deceased, wasn't available to talk,) they took me to the hospital and told them they believed I was schizophrenic.

Because my family doesn't believe in psychics!

Well, the doctors did not ask me what the voices had told me, and instead diagnosed me with schizophrenia and schizo-affective disorder, and recommended shock therapy, all because I was hearing the spirit of God!

My family (I had helicopter parents, of whom I've since disowned,) made me file for Bankruptcy, and I transferred my belongings to them, including my van. I then moved in with them. They harassed me and intimidated me the whole time, whilst I was trying to save the world. My mom neglected me whilst I was crying my eyes out. They made me take electro-convulsive shock therapy, and tried to have me committed in an Asylum.

All because I'm a psychic, and at the age of 30 years old, didn't ask them for permission to go to Florida. My parents are still under the impression that I should have asked them for permission to go to Florida, in advance, for the weekend, at the age of 30 years old, and I brought this all on myself by not informing them.

After I moved in with them, my dad, who is a compulsive liar, an ex-gambler and ex-alcoholic, stole all my tools and my van, of which he wouldn't allow me to sell, because he "needed" it. My van was under his name at the time, due to bankruptcy manuevers. He also stole my shotgun, of which, I'm not allowed to purchase another firearm because of schizophrenia, so I am currently vulnerable and unarmed.

The voice in my head started torturing me. I had originally promised my soul to hell, as you can read in the Cocaine Kiss story, and the voice made me believe that I was, indeed, going to hell.

Without a job, and with no other choice, I went on Disability. None of my doctors would believe that I was psychic, and not only did they not believe me, but they refused to listen or talk to the voice that was talking to me in my mind. Instead, they called the police on me, when I tried to let them hear what the voice had to say.

One psychiatrist, I told that I was a Vegan because of my love for animals, and she told me: "I love animals too. Because they're tasty!"


I was abused by these doctors. Even fed meat. The medical system is by-and-large atheistic, and they don't believe in psychics or God.

My brother, with his failing business, borrowed $8,000 from me, and he doesn't even remember doing it!

I was a totally abused and neglected psychic, abused by the medical system and my family, for trying to save the world.

All of my family are meat-eaters! None of them will even accommodate me with Vegan food when I visit them. Not only did my mother make me eat animals, but she also made me start smoking again, by offering me cigarettes after I had quit for three years.

This is a very long and in-depth story, of which I am only going to skim over. I hope to take these doctors and hospitals to court, but right now I am having trouble finding a lawyer to take my case.

I am currently a volunteer reporter for the Humane Party, which God led me to. We are going to end the slavery of animals, just as Abraham Lincoln did for humans in 1863. Vote for the Humane Party in the next election! Let's do this together! It's time! God knows, it's time.

I am still on Disability, fighting a crooked court system. I live on my own and with minimal funds. My life is total shit.

I'm not schizophrenic! In fact, my brother and I both saw this spirit together, when we saw an "electric man" running across the room. I also saw a large UFO with my sister and nephew, of which there were many witnesses, which I think is their Mothership, and the local news covered it up the next day.


So, why does God seek worship? Well, let me tell you.

He seeks worship so that when he betrays you, you'll feel the sting even that much deeper. There's nothing quite like the agony of being Judas-kissed by your own God.

He has all the qualities and traits of the Marquis de Sade, when he wishes to be evil.

He doesn't really care about worship.

Fear, yes. He's knows and feeds on fear. Bitter tears. Sweet sorrow. He's everything Pinhead ever dreamed of being. But that could be all an act.

That is only his Satanic side. His Beastly side. Like I said, there's one God, and he wears many masks, or rather it is a collaboration of a Hollywood-style production on a universal scale. Programmed with supercomputers, or whatever one would call the advanced technology God uses in his realm. Outside the box, so-to-speak. On the other side of the switch, or more commonly known as the "Flip-Side". I can't help but be fascinated and bear a sense of awe-inspiring wonder at all times, the lengths this God went to to pull off such a massive and elaborate hoax on everyone. Perhaps you will meet him one day. I should hope so. I'm counting on it.

There is another side to him. When I was in hostage negotiations with this Beastie, negotiating in a very painstaking manner, working every bit as hard as you would ever desire from someone appointed, secretly and divinely, to be your solitary intermediary, bearing various tortures and agony that one would consider cruel and unusual punishment in this world, all while the fate of your wives and your children and your deceased loved ones were on the line, bearing countless months and years of restless nights, unflinching devotion to the task at hand, living on the meager wage of Disability, not sleeping for four or longer days in a row all the time, constantly looking out my window for that Mothership to return and that Electric Light Being to return and spare me this burden of having to do everything by myself, agonizing over doing this job that had crept upon me so unaware that I wearily accepted and took to task, as best as I could muster with all the humanly and spiritual strength I had available to a man who was so irrevocably Hellbound and bound up like a fly in a spiderweb, painstakingly trying not to alarm everyone who seemed to be sound asleep, knowing that it constituted mental rape to reveal all that I had learned, indeed, I felt raped for having come into this knowledge, and so I went to every authority first that I could find, desperate for help, knowing that the world would be counting on me had they only an inkling of what I was chosen to undertake behind closed doors, bearing long and burdensome months in institutions, restlessly pacing countless laps around the loony bin in four or five pairs of socks to stave off blisters, when they would allow me such comforts, because no idiotic psychiatrist, or anyone I ever knew, could ever fathom that some innocent soul could pick up a crank phone call from a mysterious stranger in his mind, and no matter how hard he tried, this being would not hang up, not for thirteen long solitary years yet. Are you still hearing voices, these doctors would ask me? Over and over again. Oh, shut up, just shut up already, you ignorant and overpaid quacks. How many times do I have to tell you? It's God! He's on the line. Feeling like Sarah Conner, presently. Those doctors, you just knew they were Terminators in disguise sent to put you behind impenetrable walls in windowless rooms alongside the other "crazies", and lock you away forever, hiding the key around the neck of a fearsome dragon that I would be required to overthrow to recover my own freedom, and I have not won my freedom back yet. That dragon still looms. Nobody with a formal education could be so utterly stupid, could they? If only they'd been to the hells I'd visited. Oh, if only! I secretly wish that they will, indeed, inhabit those very hells that I endured. I pray they get a taste of what I've had to endure.

You have no idea what it's like to stare God right in the eyeball and be told you are going to hell, and that it is all written in stone. And then, when you take up measures to rectify the matter, by performing some pretty unorthodox and bizarre legal and scriptural maneuvers with all the finesse and flair of a spiritual contortionist, working as your own lawyer whilst imprisoned, borrowing a little bit from this book, and some from that book, and even as a last and desperate resort, hiding behind the the robes of Satan himself, supported quite perilously by the law of Thelema, that to do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the Law, a weasel clause to be sure, but the only one suitably able to rise to the occasion to prove my innocence to God, to take up refuge with Satan because God himself, it has become apparent, was quite utterly mad and beastly to utterly annihilate an upright and kind-hearted man and ruin his livelihood, to then, after having taken refuge behind Satan, to have God send his angels after me and attack me in my mind, as though I had become a devil myself and all the armies of heaven were set against me. This God never loses. He never tires. His creativity and ability to stealthily and artfully attack you from thousands of different angles, skillfully drawing blood from every artery and orifice and ear, with all the skill of a Torador on steroids, simply has no precedence. A completely tireless adversary, the grueling sessions went on for months at length, breaking rarely. I've never met, seen, or heard of, a more worthy adversary, nor have I ever been bludgeoned so ruthlessly in all my life. We played war games. I created firewalls for my mind. He demolished my firewalls. They were garbage, he said. We evaded doctors, nurses, and the police. We created art together. We strategized and ruthlessly plotted and foiled. We were punctilious in all that we did, laying out our web like a spider, checking and double-checking facts, and correcting punctuation wherever amiss, day in and day out. Preparing for God knows what! An Apocalypse, no doubt, always in the back of my mind. I feared. I borrowed tools from the very arsenal in which God had used to assault me. Be perfect, even as your Father in heaven is perfect, the good book says. Monkey-see, Monkey-do. I emulated as best as my monkey brain would allow me. And wouldn't you know it, I had a working roadmap in the Holy Books. Monkey-see, Monkey-do. I watched Jesus and emulated him. I emulated God to the best of my ability. I submitted and applied myself as best as I could muster and with utter and total humility to this God who seemed only out to do me evil.

With all the finesse of a Hollywood movie villain, God presented himself to me as a sniper on the roof. I saw his handiwork. I knew that he was a sharpshooter from day one. I feared whose life he might take next. Could be mine. Could be anyone's. We decorated my apartment together with all the keepsakes I managed to assemble whilst doing penance for every sinner, both man and woman, even the arrogant pricks who had so much fun lambasting me in public. And yet, I was aptly kind to everyone whenever they had shown a hint of kindness to me. As an added insult, God taught me the pleasures of drinking wine, and then entombed me like the poor Fortunato, the parti-striped fool with bells on his hat, Fortunato of Edgar Allen Poe lore, perhaps one of the most terrifying of all horror stories, and this deity bricked me away behind a wall for the promises of a fair pipe of Amontillado. The work of a true sadist if I ever heard of one. I was absolutely blindsided. Do you really mean that this whole universe and all of it's inhabitants were created to take a carefully and meticulously crafted dagger and plunge it directly into my pupils? My God, what had I ever done to you, in this life or any other, to be the target of such merciless and agonizing torment?

He blinded me. He threw sand in my eyes. He used every dirty trick in the book. I could no longer tell good from evil. I lashed out by carefully taking notes and keeping records, but they were everywhere. In storage, lost on hard drives, for God's sake, I've been on the Internet since I was 7 and I've never been altogether organized, working sometimes upwards of 48-72 hours at a single stint. All of my writing spilled out into the real world. I couldn't keep track of it anymore. Backups fried. I overcompensated by making backups of backups, and utilizing the Cloud in case of fire. I overflowed. I recorded every phone call and God knows where they are all now. Spread out all over the place, to be certain. I created. I never stopped creating. I created and I shared. Spread myself out pretty thick. Devoted myself to this God and my art, and God would eclipse all my art and my writing, as his demands were heavy.

What can I say, though, I wouldn't trade my life for the world. I am 100% happy with myself, though dismayed with nearly everyone else. I feel that I'm the only one working. Though I lead this secret war for heaven, plotting to overthrow the world's main protagonists, so that I might somehow keep God's promise of a Paradise, updated in function and scale to fit the needs of a 21st Century populace of 7.5 billion people who all act like complete children, yea I dream big, and even plot to storm heaven and reunite everyone with their families, which I am quite certain are on-board that Mothership that we all saw, who are most likely distastefully looking down at us right now, completely ashamed of how everyone is wasting their lives perched in front of their televisions watching that loathsome MSNBC and eating filet mignon and caviar and screwing each other in the backs of Limousines. Completely unaware of this spiritual battle being fought by one solitary individual on behalf of the whole planet. A battle for heaven and hell. All the while all the world hurls insults at me and spits on me as I stay up with them through the night, night after night, trying to get even one person to hear me out. To this day, I could count on less than three fingers, the number of people who ever bent their ears to give my story a moment's attention. At least, to my face. In thirteen years! I have no idea the countless anonymous souls who are hearing me out on the Internet. Everyone is so quiet. I don't hear a peep from just about anybody. I've been dealt the deepest blows to my ego. None of this should ever have been my burden. Why should I try to keep God's promises? I do it because I want to do it. Because nothing would make me happier than to see everyone reunited with their deceased families. And who else would do it if not me? Then all of my troubles would magically melt away. Nobody would want to fight with me anymore. Nothing would matter anymore. I'd forget about all the mind-raping I endured. I'd forgive God. There really isn't anyone I've ever known who died that I really want to meet again. I've been quite lucky that way. My dog. That's about it. But my burden, dragging on now for over 13 years (and even longer if you consider that my work began after I saw the light-being) would be over, if only I could see the heavenly reunion that was promised to me. Nobody would even give a damn about anything I ever said or thought anymore, if only they could have their families back. I imagine our families looking down upon us, day in and day out, anxiously awaiting this beautiful reunion. That just makes me want to cry, and indeed I feel a tear drawing to my eye presently.

Einstein was wrong when he said there's no such thing as a personal God. He believed in Spinoza's God. I do have a personal God. Don't I know it that I've opened up a Pandora's box? Or perhaps it is Lemarchand's Hellraiser box? You bet your ass I know it. I challenge anyone to make a Surrah quite like the one God and I have spun out together on the Internet. We're all going to have to become a tighter, closer-knit family, if we are going to get out of this place in one piece.

I really don't want to be here anymore. My burden has been more than I can bare, but I do grin and bare it, for I know of no other way. My life has been such a sad one. And now, don't you know, my remaining years will probably be spent arguing with religious folks in thousands of different religions and sects. Quite a dismal existence, to say the least. I detest an argument. My last half of my life could possibly be worst than the first, and that's quite pathetic. Sure, I believe in all your religious experiences. We're in the Matrix, don't you know. Yes, anything is possible. Your God is most certainly possible in the Matrix. I believe you've probably seen ghosts, as well as I have. I believe you've seen angels, and aliens, even spoken to them. I've heard God speak in tongues. I know that's possible. Not sure about Bigfoot. Maybe! I'm certain that people other than myself have religious experiences and I don't want to deny anyone their own personal experiences, though most everyone has had the pleasure of denying my own personal experiences to my face. I don't like to argue. But I have really become jaded with this world. I've had to disown most of my family. Their insistence that I suffer from schizophrenia is infuriating. They ignorantly refuse to listen to any of my experiences. They ignorantly overlook all the available evidence. They refuse to read anything I write or listen to anything I've recorded. Take your pills! Take your pills! Whenever I stammer even one word of my story. I'm so sick of their pills. And everyone thinks that I am going to kill them, because, well, that's what schizophrenics do. They maim and they kill. Everyone knows this because it's blasted on the news. Nevermind that I am a loving Vegan, Humanitarian, and a pacifist, and never laid a hand in violence on anyone in my life. They even had me undergo electro-convulsive shock therapy. Because my God does not act in any way, shape or form, the God they've all grown up to know and love. No, my God is the God of Schizophrenia. And everyone knows it, too. Everyone just KNOWS that I have Schizophrenia. Because everyone is a psychiatrist in his own mind. And EVERYONE talks to God, and I'm definitely not special. I've been told that countless times.

I had only the highest hopes and intentions for all of you. God told me, clean up this shithole, and maybe, just maybe, I'll bring your families back. Yeah, he said "shithole"! And what's with that strong MAYBE? Maybe's just not good enough, God! If God doesn't bring our families back, as promised, I will have no doubt in my mind that God is creating for himself a Harem and a kingdom of involuntary servants. I've devoted myself unwaveringly and untiringly to this task of cleaning up this shithole. But how can I do that? When I can barely get a single soul to speak to me. I feel like such an abject failure. And yet, I was set up as one man against the world. With a voice in my head that nobody believes is real. Because ignorance abounds. I've argued with so many ignorant people.

So why do I think God can bring our families back? 1) I saw a light being/spirit with my brother (i.e., souls are possible) 2) I saw an enormous Mothership with my sister and nephew. 3) God gave me a very elaborate vision of a man being reincarnated aboard that ship. 4) He tells me that he can. 5) It's promised in the bible.

So, yes, I believe he can do it. But will he? Will he abandon me? Us? I fear that he will. That's why I've kept my mouth shut for so long. I just can't, for the life of me, ever see it happening. I have waited for that ship and that electric light being for so long to come back. Been utterly disappointed the whole way.

Never wanting to disappoint a single person, and being a shy person at that, I set out to put an end to my life. There seemed to be no end to this tired existence. Razors were of no use. I could not bring myself to do the deed. I tried to drink myself to death. I could handle that, but my alcohol tolerance grew to such insane levels, that suddenly I could not even get buzzed anymore no matter how much I consumed. And, I must say, I made a lovely ass of myself when I was drunk. I do miss it. Even laughing gas at the dentist stopped working on me. Nothing works to relieve me of this anguish. I really hate my life. There's no way I'll ever get a job again, after the spectacle I've made of myself on the Internet. Probably my job as a volunteer reporter will be over if they ever catch a whiff of this. People will probably hate me as an author, especially those with very strong religious views. There's simply no way out of this but through to the other side. I swear to you I'm not bullshitting about any of this. I'm not an asshole, I'm not out for fame or money, I only want to see a peaceful and happy resolution to this problem, and it's a real doozy.

Okay, I may have been a little tough on God. We've definitely had our good times. I've written about many of them on Lunatic Outpost. Perhaps I have Stockholm syndrome, but I've really grown to love the guy. And there's so much to love! He's absolutely kept me in stitches. I never laughed so hard in my life as I have in many of our conversations. I've certainly never laughed like that with humans. Most of which I can no longer remember, and never could find the time to write down. He has a wonderful and wicked sense of humor. He knows exactly what I love, even more than I know myself. And all the gifts I've received. And the countless stories. I could never speak until I received the gift of Gab from the archangel Gabriel, for example, even though I know he wasn't the real Gabriel. And I absolutely love the apartment God decorated for me. He took me through the supermarkets, pointing out all the little things I hadn't noticed before, how they carefully hide all the vegan food from you, and throw all the meat up in your face. The supermarkets are virtual slaughterhouses. They care absolutely nothing for animals. Meat, meat, meat. The vegan food available is so sparse and expensive. Look down the aisle and think of all the slaughtered animals in that store, and then just imagine that in a million different supermarkets across the world. We think absolutely nothing about animal life. We're living with a true Holocaust right under our noses. Animals are our brothers and sisters. Most of us have some as pets. Do you honestly think the angels rejoice over us? When they know that most of us really think nothing about animals? Do you think they are happy when we give a homeless man a hamburger, simply trading one victim for another? Yes, they care about animals up there. They absolutely do. And I bet when our families come back, they will shun meat and meat-eaters. Perhaps that's why they still have not come back to this day. I certainly wouldn't want to come back here either. I hate this place.

I'm so fearful that God will abandon me again when I need him most. Primarily, during those moments, when people will surely want to talk to this God, and I have absolutely no say in the matter. Either he will speak or he won't. He won't give me lottery numbers or anything like that, and that's always what people want to know. He ALWAYS calls the shots, and that terrifies the hell out of me, because I always expect to be abandoned at the most inopportune time. He hasn't spoken to me much, lately. Here and there, he interrupts my mind, and I see in my mind's eye pictures, or I hear words. It's really just ESP, probably through technology.

I rarely pray. I save my prayers for really important prayers. I've always been that way, partially not wanting to cause God any undue burden, and partially because I don't want to be let down when my prayers don't come true. But, apparently, God says I've made all the right prayers. I now know that I've always been just a puppet, but I never knew that before. I thought I was making all those prayers up myself.

I am asking for some leeway. Please don't hate me for things that are beyond my control. I absolutely can't stand to be hated. I did not choose this. This was thrust upon me, probably since I was a baby. Please don't hate me for all the blasphemy, as I can assure you, God really doesn't care about all that, and so neither do I anymore. I've learned so many things that the church will not dare to share with people, and I have always given all that knowledge away freely. Many of them are out there in the public domain now. I have been sharing freely on many forums for many years, all the little secrets God has been showing to me. And I've been attacked many times, because it's not all happy happy joy joy rainbows and unicorns.

So what's going to happen now? I don't know. Truth be told, I'm terrified. I really hope the government has been keeping tabs on me, reading all my chat messages, listening to all my phone calls, and dipping into all of my writing databases and such. If not, they are going to get a hell of a rude awakening. I have gone to the FBI, the police, a Rabbi, a cult leader, a state, pastors, priests, some of the smartest people in the world, reached out to some politicians, Wikileaks, the various media outlets. Surely, someone has to be on to me by now. Not everyone can be this stupid to not see that I am telling the truth. The evidence is overwhelmingly in my favor. For so long I have been waiting for a knock at my door, someone to tell me that I'm not alone anymore. But I am. 100% alone. I really can't deal with this anymore by myself. I call foul! How in the hell am I going to get through to such a hard-headed and stiff-necked bunch when God will barely lift a finger to help me? Apparently, he wants to see me do it all by myself. But I throw up my arms! This is too enormous an undertaking. How am I going to get the whole world to help me create a Paradise that's fitting for our relatives to come back to? And oh, if we do go through all the trouble and he doesn't return with them, I am sure to be slaughtered or torn apart by an angry mob with pitchforks and baseball bats!

I have thought this through over and over again. It's completely fraught with peril. But something always tells me that I have to try. My life is getting shorter by the day. I am not an omniscient being. I am going to tell you the same thing Jesus told you in the bible. No man knows the day or hour, but the Father in heaven. It's just as true today as it was then. The circumstances are a bit different, to be sure. God pulled a slick one on us. He holds every card in the deck. The veil has not been lifted. It's still there. Not one of us know what they are doing to our families aboard that ship. Not one of us knows what's going to happen after we die either.

I seem to hold the only keys and I am holding them for you in my outward palms. Somebody, come take over! I don't want this burden anymore. Can we stop fighting? Can we work for a common cause? All any of us wants is our families back, I'm sure. What in the world do I have to do? Somebody, please tell me, for I am all out of ideas. What can I do? I can not simply rest on my haunches and do nothing. I have gone from making $150k in one year as a programmer, to barely being able to eat now some days. My life is in shambles and all my bridges have been burned. There is NO coming back from this! Not unless my businesses that I'm starting are successful, and that's a big maybe. And anyone researching me will probably come to the conclusion that I'm a schizophrenic, or worse than that, a liar. And I'm not! I have been as honest as I could possibly be ever since I saw the light being, for I knew instinctively that all I had to do was tell one lie, and I would never be believed again.

If you would like to hear a conversation between me and God, visit the following link: and you can even chat with me there if I'm available.

Please support me and my fight with this atheistic legal and medical system, and my fight for animal rights!


Ronald Randazzo

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