SAN FRANCISCO EARTHQUAKE, Magnitude 9.6 @ ~ 4.00 PM, Thursday, October 27, 2016.
The original article can be found here:
A psychic friend recently shared her remote viewing of a near-future San Francisco disaster. I did a psychic energy reading of the friend’s remote-viewing, corroborating it as true, and developed additional details.
In this remote-viewing, the time frame is Thursday, October 27, 2016.
San Francisco would at that time be shaken by an enormous and highly-destructive Great Quake.
This Great Quake would have a magnitude of 9.6, (twice as strong as the previous record-holder, the 9.5 Great Chilean Quake of 1960).
Japan’s March, 2011 Tohoku Quake was 9.0. The difference is not trivial. A 9.6 quake is six times as big as that 9.0 quake.
[Earthquake magnitude scales are logarithmic, based on 10. Each tenth represents another order of magnitude.]
Many buildings in the San Francisco Bay Area would fail in a 9.6 quake.
For example, San Francisco Airport was built to withstand only an 8.0 quake. The San Francisco-Oakland Bay Bridge was retrofitted to withstand only an 8.5 quake. A 9.6 Quake will be 11 times as strong as an 8.5. Thus the SF-Oakland Bay Bridge would fail. The Golden Gate Bridge is currently being retrofitted to withstand only an 8.3 quake. So it doesn’t stand a chance against the coming 9.6 Mega-Quake, 13 times as strong as an 8.3! My remote viewer friend saw the Golden Gate Bridge twist, come apart, and fall into the ocean. Unfortunately that is exactly what woud happen.
The large Tsunami generated by the March, 2011 9.0 Tohoku Quake off the shore of Honshu, Japan was highly destructive.
The 10/27/16 San Francisco 9.6 Great Quake’s epicenter would be located half-way between San Francisco and its off-shore Farralon Islands, i.e. 13 miles west of SF under the Pacific ocean floor. The super-tsunami would be caused by the large earth movement/quake on the ocean floor of the Farallon Trench. Thus the Great Tsunami’s starting point there would be twice as close to San Francisco as the Tohoku Quake epicenter was to Honshu, and the SF Great Quake would occur in ocean depth six times as shallow (360 feet/110 m), as that of the Tohoku Quake, (2100 feet/640 m). And the SF Great Quake would be six times as strong as the Tohoku Quake was.
Thus, combining these three factors, it is estimated that the Tsunami generated by the 2016 Quake would be considerably taller and stronger than the Tohoku Tsunami was. (The Tohoku Tsunami reached wave heights of roughly 50 feet (15 m) at shoreline, and 100 feet in several places.) The Tsunami launched by the 2016 San Francisco Great Quake may reach heights in excess of 100 feet (30 m) or more in some places.
My psychic friend future-viewed one portion of that giant Tsunami wave coming in towards the Golden Gate from the Pacific. The Tsunami was higher than where she was remote-viewing, meaning it would be reaching a height of 300+ feet (91 m) elevation in some places. That Tsunami would have risen upon slamming against the Pacific cliffs of San Francisco’s Presidio, surging up over those cliffs and cresting in height, and rolling across the Presidio tablelands eastward into the portions of northern San Francisco facing San Francisco Bay.
Other portions of that rolling Tsunami would also continue surging through the Golden Gate, and fan out across San Francisco Bay, swamping bayfront communities, and spreading into San Pablo Bay and Suisun Bay to the north, and lower San Francisco Bay to the south.
If the northern surge is powerful enough, it could back up the flow of the Sacramento and San Joaquin Rivers into Suisun Bay and collapse the fragile earthen levees of the Delta’s islands, thereby destroying the through-Delta conveyance system of fresh water from Northern California to Southern California. Result: severe prolonged water rationing in the Los Angeles/Southern California area, and crop failures in California’s Central Valley due to reduced supplies of water.
If the south-bay surge of the tsunami is strong enough, it could inundate the Bay Area’s two major airports (at sea level), San Francisco International (SFO) and Oakland International, and destroy what the 9.6 Earthquake had not already destroyed. A climate study shows that a sea level rise of just 3 feet (1 meter) would put much of SFO Airport underwater. This Tsunami would bring a rise in water level many times that.
So, we on the U.S. West Coast and Pacific Rim have until 2016 to prepare for the really Big One.
And those who live near but outside the San Francisco Bay Area should prepare at that time for a mass exodus of Bay Area refugees leaving their ruined city. They cannot flee to San Jose because San Jose may well experience damage and partial inundation, since portions of that city are near or below sea level. If the Tsunami surge is strong enough, Stockton on the Sacramento River Delta (elev. 0′-11 feet/(0-3 m) may be damaged enough to be quite limited in helping refugees. Slightly higher but smaller Lodi may offer some refuge. Many SF refugees will chose Sacramento, but which at an elevation of 25 feet (7.6 m) may have its government buildings flooded by the backing up of the Sacramento River, and therefore have plenty of problems of its own to deal with.
Emergency volunteers in the Sierra Foothills are making disaster plans to shelter refugees fleeing any San Francisco Bay Area quake.
These Times of Transition will require that we all adopt the mentality of readiness to lend a helping hand.
Spread the word. No one in the affected area should be left unwarned.
However, there is also indication that _IF_ Star Seeds and other lightworkers mobilize society to heal the damage done to Gaia/Mother Earth, and most especially: remove and neutralize the atomic waste dumped in the Farralon Trench [which would be the Mega-Quake’s epicenter], it will be possible for Gaia to be satisfied with improved human treatment of her enough that Gaia will not need to release tectonic forces of such magnitude. Gaia is alive and conscious? Yes.
Thus the principal thing to note is that the mega-earthquake/tsunami is _conditional_. It will or will not happen depending on whether enough Humans get serious about environmental remediation, and particularly about cleaning up all the radioactive waste that was dumped in the Farallon Islands Trench west of San Francisco years ago.
If people do not, that Trench is precisely where Mother Earth/Gaia will cause the Great Quake & Tsunami to originate from, The Farallon Trench is only a few miles offshore of the San Francisco area.
Let’s get busy creating improved environmental consciousness. And demand that the government clean up the Farallon Nuclear Dump now! The future is what we [you!] make it.
Richard Boylan, Ph.D., Councillor
Richard Boylan, Ph.D., LLC
In 1937 Joe Brandt saw an Earthquake sink Los Angeles, much of California and Japan
THE COMING EARTHQUAKE — Introduction by Jessica Madigan (Mei Ling)
On Christmas Eve, in 1965, my husband—my closest friend, Fran Brandt, and her husband, Joe, were celebrating with sandwiches, and coffee, and fruit cake, in the meditation room, downstairs. Carols poured from the TV, upstairs, a holiday dinner was in the making. For some reason, Joe—Fran’s husband—ventured to speak of the coming California earthquake. It did not seem a moment to talk about earthquakes—because Christmas is the most precious time in the world. The huge tree, ablaze with tiny star-lights seemed to presage only goodness, and love, and beauty. Joe was saying that he had an accident—a fall from a horse when he was 17, and for days he had a concussion. During this period, a continuous dream came again and again—as if he were viewing a tremendous earthquake and inundation in California and other parts of the world.
I listened—politely—made some comment, and turned to talk to Fran about a new movie—or some equally world shaking event. I was vaguely aware that Joe had brought in a sheaf of papers—and he said he would put it in my downstairs desk [in 1965] until I had time to read the “dream”. That time did not arrive, until, by accident, I came across them this last week [in 1967]—pages after pages after pages—written in a boy’s handwriting, about the coming California earthquake. It would take weeks to research all this material—but I phoned my former geology professor and read portions to him. COULD THIS HAPPEN? COULD CALIFORNIA GO DOWN IN JUST THIS WAY? WOULD OTHER AREAS BE AFFECTED IN A MATTER OF HOURS? He answered in the affirmative. Joe had written (sleeping and dreaming—and in drowsy awakening—about positions of various FAULTS, strata of rock, earth movements, so much material that a geologist of many years would scarcely attempt such a work [this geological data was omitted from Jessica’s book]. Yet—here it was—waiting for me to find it for two years. Since that night, Fran has changed worlds [in 1966 or 1967]—and my husband is very ill—other unforseen events which I could not have imagined have taken place—and all this, perhaps, precluded my finding of the “earthquake papers”.
This book is already very long—double its size—and I realize that this vision given to a 17 year old boy must be placed, as it is, into a book. Consciously, he knew nothing of geology or of the possibility of a coming earthquake. The notes are 30 years old—yellowed with age—and yet there is a clarity and an unbelievable reality in them. Some of the highlights must be given—because, I am certain now, as I was not certain on Christmas Eve of 1965, that the California earthquake WILL come . . . and its coming is close at hand. Since Joe covered the AREAS AROUND THE WORLD WHICH WOULD BE AFFECTED, not all of these can be given (although perhaps we can write a booklet on this experience), but for those of us in THIS LAND . . . especially the CALIFORNIA LAND, these are the highlights of that vision.
I woke up in the hospital room with a terrific headache—as if the whole world was revolving inside my brain. I remember, vaguely, the fall from my horse—Blackie. As I lay there, pictures began to form in my mind—pictures that stood still. I seemed to be in another world. Whether it was the future, or it was some ancient land, I could not say. Then slowly, like the silver screen of the “talkies,” but with color and smell and sound, I seemed to find myself in Los Angeles—but I swear it was much bigger, and buses and odd-shaped cars crowded the city streets.
I thought about Hollywood Boulevard, and I found myself there. Whether this is true, I do not know, but there were a lot of guys my age with beards and wearing, some of them, earrings. All the girls, some of them keen-o, wore real short skirts. . . and they slouched along—moving like a dance. Yet they seemed familiar. I wondered if I could talk to them, and I said, “Hello,” but they didn’t see or hear me. I decided I would look as funny to them as they looked to me. I guess it is something you have to learn. I couldn’t do it.
I noticed there was a quietness about the air, a kind of stillness. Something else was missing, something that should be there. At first, I couldn’t figure it out, I didn’t know what it was—then I did. There were no birds. I listened. I walked two blocks north of the Boulevard—all houses—no birds. I wondered what had happened to them. Had they gone away? Again, I could hear the stillness. Then I knew something was going to happen.
I wondered what year it was. It certainly was not 1937. I saw a newspaper on the corner with a picture of the President. It surely wasn’t Mr. Roosevelt. He was bigger, heavier, big ears. If it wasn’t 1937, I wondered what year it was. . . My eyes weren’t working right. Someone was coming—someone in 1937—it was that darned, fat nurse ready to take my temperature. I woke up. Crazy dream.
The next day: Gosh, my headache is worse. It is a wonder I didn’t get killed on that horse. I’ve had another crazy dream, back in Hollywood. Those people. Why do they dress like that, I wonder? Funny glow about them. It is a shine around their heads—something shining. I remember it now. I found myself back on the Boulevard. I was waiting for something to happen and I was going to be there. I looked up at the clock down by that big theater. It was ten minutes to four. Something big was going to happen.
I wondered if I went into a movie (since nobody could see me) if I’d like it. Some cardboard blond was draped over the marquee with her leg six feet long. I started to go in, but it wasn’t inside. I was waiting for something to happen outside. I walked down the street. In the concrete they have names of stars. I just recognized a few of them. The other names I had never heard. I was getting bored, I wanted to get back to the hospital in Fresno, and I wanted to stay there on the Boulevard, even if nobody could see me. Those crazy kids. Why are they dressed like that? Maybe it is some big Halloween doings, but it don’t seem like Halloween. More like early spring. There was that sound again, that lack of sound. Stillness, stillness, stillness. The quiet is getting bigger and bigger. I know it is going to happen. Something is going to happen. It is happening now! It sure did. She woke me up, grinning and smiling, that fat one again.
“It’s time for your milk, kiddo,” she says. Gosh, old women of thirty acting like the cat’s pajamas. Next time maybe she’ll bring hot chocolate.
Where have I been? Where haven’t I been? I’ve been to the ends of the earth and back. I’ve been to the end of the world—there isn’t anything left. Not even Fresno, even though I’m lying here right this minute. If only my eyes would get a little clearer so I can write all this down. Nobody will believe me, anyway. I’m going back to that last moment on the Boulevard. Some sweet kid went past, dragging little boys (twins, I guess) by each hand. Her skirt was up—well, pretty high—and she had a tired look. I thought for a minute I could ask her about the birds, what had happened to them, and then I remembered she hadn’t seen me. Her hair was all frowzy, way out all over her head. A lot of them looked like that, but she looked so tired and like she was sorry about something. I guess she was sorry before it happened—because it surely did happen. There was a funny smell. I don’t know where it came from. I didn’t like it. A smell like sulphur, sulfuric acid, a smell like death. For a minute I thought I was back in chem. [Chemistry class].
When I looked around for the girl, she was gone. I wanted to find her for some reason. It was as if I knew something was going to happen and I could stay with her, help her. She was gone, and I walked half a block, then I saw the clock again. My eyes seemed glued to that clock. I couldn’t move. I just waited. It was five minutes to four on a sunny afternoon. I thought I would stand there looking at that clock forever waiting for something to come. Then, when it came, it was nothing. It was just nothing. It wasn’t nearly as hard as the earthquake we had two years ago. The ground shook, just an instant. People looked at each other, surprised. Then they laughed. I laughed, too. So this was what I had been waiting for. This funny little shake. It meant nothing.
I was relieved and I was disappointed. What had I been waiting for? I started back up the Boulevard, moving my legs like those kids. How do they do it? I never found out. I felt as if the ground wasn’t solid under me, knew I was dreaming, and yet I wasn’t dreaming. There was that smell again, coming up from the ocean. I was getting to the 5 and 10 store and I saw the look on the kids’ faces. Two of them were right in front of me, coming my way.
“Let’s get out of this place. Let’s go back East.” He seemed scared. It wasn’t as if the sidewalks were trembling—but you couldn’t seem to see them. Not with your eyes you couldn’t. An old lady had a dog, a little white dog, and she stopped and looked scared, and grabbed him in her arms and said: “Let’s go home, Frou, Frou. Mama is going to take you home.” That poor lady, hanging on to her dog.
I got scared. Real scared. I remembered the girl. She was way down the block, probably. I ran and ran, and the ground kept trembling. I couldn’t see it. I couldn’t see it. But I knew it was trembling. Everybody looked scared. They looked terrible. One young lady just sat down on the sidewalk all doubled up. She kept saying, “earthquake, its the earthquake,” over and over. But I couldn’t see that anything was different.
Then, when it came, how it came. Like nothing in God’s world. Like nothing. It was like the scream of a siren, long and low, or the scream of a woman I heard having a baby when I was a kid. It was awful. It was as if something—some monster—was pushing up the sidewalks. You felt it long before you saw it, as if the sidewalks wouldn’t hold you anymore. I looked out at the cars. They were honking, but not scared. They just kept moving. They didn’t seem to know yet that anything was happening. Then, that white car, that baby half-sized one came sprawling from the inside lane right against the curb. The girl who was driving just sat there. She sat there with her eyes staring, as if she couldn’t move, but I could hear her. She made funny noises.
I watched her, thinking of the other girl. I said that it was a dream and I would wake up. But I didn’t wake up. The shaking had started again, but this time different. It was a nice shaking, like a cradle being rocked for a minute, and then I saw the middle of the Boulevard seem to be breaking in two. The concrete looked as if it were being pushed straight up by some giant shovel. It was breaking in two. That is why the girl’s car went out of control. And then a loud sound again, like I’ve never heard before—then hundreds of sounds—all kinds of sounds; children, and women, and those crazy guys with earrings. They were all moving, some of them above the sidewalk. I can’t describe it. They were lifted up.
And the waters kept oozing—oozing. The cries. God, it was awful. I woke up. I never want to have that dream again.
It came again. Like the first time which was a preview and all I could remember was that it was the end of the world. I was right back there—all that crying. Right in the middle of it. My eardrums felt as if they were going to burst. Noise everywhere. People falling down, some of them hurt badly. Pieces of buildings, chips, flying in the air. One hit me hard on the side of the face, but I didn’t seem to feel it. I wanted to wake up, to get away from this place. It had been fun in the beginning, the first dream, when I kind of knew I was going to dream the end of the world or something. This was terrible. There were older people in cars. Most of the kids were on the street. But those old guys were yelling bloody murder, as if anybody could help them. Nobody could help anybody. It was then I felt myself lifted up. Maybe I had died. I don’t know. But I was over the city. It was tilting toward the ocean—like a picnic table.
The buildings were holding, better than you could believe. They were holding. They were holding. They were holding.
The people saw they were holding and they tried to cling to them or get inside. It was fantastic. Like a building had a will of its own. Everything else breaking around them, and they were holding, holding. I was up over them—looking down. I started to root for them. “Hold that line,” I said. “Hold that line. Hold that line. Hold that line.” I wanted to cheer, to shout, to scream. If the buildings held, those buildings on the Boulevard, maybe the girl—the girl with the two kids—maybe she could get inside. It looked that way for a long time, maybe three minutes, and three minutes was like forever. You knew they were going to hold, even if the waters kept coming up. Only they didn’t.
I’ve never imagined what it would be like for a building to die. A building dies just like a person. It gives way, some of the bigger ones did just that. They began to crumble, like an old man with palsy, who couldn’t take it anymore. They crumbled right down to nothing. And the little ones screamed like mad—over and above the roar of the people. They were mad about dying. But buildings die.
I couldn’t look anymore at the people. I kept wanting to get higher. Then I seemed to be out of it all, but I could see. I seemed to be up on Big Bear near San Bernardino, but the funny thing was that I could see everywhere. I knew what was happening. The earth seemed to start to tremble again. I could feel it even though I was high up. This time it lasted maybe twelve seconds, and it was gentle. You couldn’t believe anything so gentle could cause so much damage. But then I saw the streets of Los Angeles—and everything between the San Bernardino mountains and Los Angeles. It was still tilting towards the ocean, houses, everything that was left. I could see the big lanes—dozens of big lanes still loaded with cars sliding the same way. Now the ocean was coming in, moving like a huge snake across the land. I wondered how long it was, and I could see the clock, even though I wasn’t there on the Boulevard. It was 4:29. It had been half an hour. I was glad I couldn’t hear the crying anymore. But I could see everything. I could see everything.
Then, like looking at a huge map of the world, I could see what was happening on the land and with the people. San Francisco was feeling it, but she was not in any way like Hollywood or Los Angeles. It was moving just like that earthquake movie with Jeanette McDonald and Gable. I could see all those mountains coming together. . . I knew it was going to happen to San Francisco—it was going to turn over—it would turn upside down. It went quickly, because of the twisting, I guess. It seemed much faster than Hollywood, but then I wasn’t exactly there. I was a long way off. I was a long, long way off. I shut my eyes for a long time—I guess ten minutes—and when I opened them I saw Grand Canyon.
When I looked at Grand Canyon, that great big gap was closing in, and Boulder Dam was being pushed, from underneath. And then, Nevada, and on up to Reno. Way down south, way down. Baja, California. Mexico too. It looked like some volcano down there was erupting, along with everything else. I saw the map of South America, especially Colombia. Another volcano—eruption—shaking violently. I seemed to be seeing a movie of three months before—before the Hollywood earthquake. Venezuela seemed to be having some kind of volcanic activity. Away off in the distance, I could see Japan, on a fault, too. It was so far off—not easy to see because I was still on Big Bear Mountain, but it started to go into the sea. I couldn’t hear screaming, but I could see the surprised look on their faces. They looked so surprised. Japanese girls are made well, supple, easy, muscles that move well. Pretty, too. But they were all like dolls. It was so far away I could hardly see it. In a minute or two it seemed over. Everybody was gone. There was nobody left.
[Brother Branham said: “Japan . . . she’s ready to rock to pieces right now. And there’s no way you can stop it, because they have neglected to do exactly what God told them to do. Instead of preach of Gospel, they have built buildings, and had fine scholarships, and educations” (Uncertain Sound, #61-0415E)].
I didn’t know time now. I couldn’t see a clock. I tried to see the island of Hawaii. I could see huge tidal waves beating against it. The people on the streets were getting wet, and they were scared. But I didn’t see anybody go into the sea.
I seemed way around the globe. More flooding. Is the world going to be drenched? Constantinople. Black Sea rising. Suez Canal, for some reason seemed to be drying up. Sicily—she doesn’t hold. I could see a map. Mt. Etna. Mt. Etna is shaking. A lot of area seemed to go, but it seemed to be earlier or later. I wasn’t sure of time, now.
England—huge floods—but no tidal waves. Water, water everywhere, but no one was going into the sea. People were frightened and crying. Some places they fell to the streets on their knees and started to pray for the world. I didn’t know the English were emotional. Ireland, Scotland—all kinds of churches were crowded—it seemed night and day. People were carrying candles and everybody was crying for California, Nevada, parts of Colorado—maybe even all of it, even Utah. Everybody was crying—most of them didn’t even know anybody in California, Nevada, Utah, but they were crying as if they were blood kin. Like one family. Like it happened to them.
New York was coming into view—she was still there, nothing had happened, yet water level was way up. Here, things were different. People were running in the streets yelling—”end of the world.” Kids ran into restaurants and ate everything in sight. I saw a shoe store with all the shoes gone in about five minutes. 5th Avenue—everybody running. Some radio blasting—bigger—a loud speaker—that in a few minutes, power might be shut off. They must control themselves. Five girls were running like mad toward the YMCA, that place on Lexington or somewhere. But nothing was happening in New York. I saw an old lady with garbage cans filling them with water. Everybody seemed scared to death. Some people looked dazed. The streets seemed filled with loud speakers. It wasn’t daylight. It was night.
I saw, like the next day, and everything was topsy turvey. Loud speakers again about fuel tanks broken in areas—shortage of oil. People seemed to be looting markets.
I saw a lot of places that seemed safe, and people were not so scared. Especially the rural areas. Here everything was almost as if nothing had happened. People seemed headed to these places, some on foot, some in cars that still had fuel. I heard—or somehow I knew—that somewhere in the Atlantic land had come up. A lot of land. I was getting awfully tired. I wanted to wake up. I wanted to go back to the girl—to know where she was—and those two kids. I found myself back in Hollywood—and it was still 4:29. I wasn’t up on Big Bear at all, I was perched over Hollywood. I was just there. It seemed perfectly natural in my dream.
I could hear now. I could hear, someplace, a radio station blasting out—telling people not to panic. They were dying in the streets. There were picture stations with movies—some right in Hollywood—these were carrying on with all the shaking. One fellow in the picture station was a little short guy who should have been scared to death. But he wasn’t. He kept shouting and reading instructions. Something about helicopters or planes would go over—some kind of planes—but I knew they couldn’t. Things were happening in the atmosphere. The waves were rushing up now. Waves. Such waves. Nightmare waves.
Then, I saw again. Boulder Dam, going down—pushing together, pushing together breaking apart—no, Grand Canyon was pushing together, and Boulder Dam was breaking apart. It was still daylight. All these radio stations went off at the same time—Boulder Dam had broken.
I wondered how everybody would know about it—people back East. That was when I saw the “ham radio operators.” I saw them in the darndest places, as if I were right there with them. Like the little guy with glasses, they kept sounding the alarm. One kept saying: “This is California. We are going into the sea. This is California. We are going into the sea. Get to high places. Get to the mountains. All states west—this is California. We are going into the. . . we are going into the. . .” I thought he was going to say “sea,” but I could see him. He was inland, but the waters had come in. His hand was still clinging to the table, he was trying to get up, so that once again he could say: “This is California. We are going into the sea. This is California. We are going into the sea.”
I seemed to hear this, over and over, for what seemed hours—just those words—they kept it up until the last minute—all of them calling out, “Get to the mountains—this is California. We are going into the sea.”
I woke up. It didn’t seem as if I had been dreaming. I have never been so tired. For a minute or two, I thought it had happened. I wondered about two things. I hadn’t seen what happened to Fresno and I hadn’t found out what happened to that girl.
I’ve been thinking about it all morning. I’m going home tomorrow. It was just a dream. It was nothing more. Nobody in the future on Hollywood Boulevard is going to be wearing earrings—and those beards. Nothing like that is ever going to happen. That girl was so real to me—that girl with those kids. It won’t ever happen—but if it did, how could I tell her (maybe she isn’t even born yet) to move away from California when she has her twins—and she can’t be on the Boulevard that day. She was so gosh-darned real.
The other thing—those ham operators—hanging on like that—over and over—saying the same thing:
“This is California. We are going into the sea. This is California. We are going into the sea. Get to the mountains. Get to the hilltops. California, Nevada, Colorado, Arizona, Utah. This is California. We are going into the sea.”
I guess I’ll hear that for days.
Joe Brandt’s Dreams agree with the Prophecies of William Branham
A prophecy that I made about 1935 or something like that, said: “The time would come (It’s written in a book somewhere) that the sea would weep it’s way into the desert.” Look what’ll take place. If that thousands of square miles falls down into the lava of the earth and slides in, there’ll be millions die at one time. And that’ll cause such a tidal wave. . . Remember, plumb up into the Salton Sea is a hundred or two hundred feet lower than the sea level. That water will probably come almost to Tucson with that tidal wave coming across there. And the sea shall weep its way into the desert (William Branham, Trying to do God a Service without being in the Will of God, p. 6:25).
[The Spirit of the Lord came upon the Prophet as he was preaching in Los Angeles]: “We don’t know what time. And you don’t know what time that this city one day is going to be laying out here in the bottom of this ocean.”
“O, Capernaum,” said Jesus, “Thou who exalted into heaven will be brought down into hell, for if the mighty works had been done in Sodom and Gomorrah, it’d have been standing till this day.” And Sodom and Gomorrah lays at the bottom of the Dead Sea, and Capernaum’s in the bottom of the sea. Thou city, who claims to be the city of the Angels, who’s exalted yourself into heaven and sent all the dirty filthy things of fashions and things, till even the foreign countries come here to pick up our filth and send it away, with your fine churches and steeples, and so forth the way you do; remember, one day you’ll be laying in the bottom of this sea. You’re great honeycomb under you right now. The wrath of God is belching right beneath you. How much longer He’ll hold this sandbar hanging over that, when that ocean out yonder a mile deep will slide in there plumb back to the Salton Sea. It’ll be worse than the last day of Pompeii. Repent, Los Angeles. Repent the rest of you and turn to God. The hour of His wrath is upon the earth. Flee while there’s time to flee and come into Christ.” Let us pray.” (Choosing a Bride, p. 35:3-5).
[And again]: “The last meeting I had in California, while speaking, and didn’t know nothing happened till I got on the street, It told California, said, “Capernaum, Capernaum, the city that’s called by the name of the angels (that’s Los Angeles), you’ve exalted yourself into heaven, but you’ll be brought down into hell. For if the mighty works had been done in Sodom that’s been done in you, it would’ve been standing till this day.”
“Now, the last few days, the great roaring and popping. Then, here come out a paper of science, said, “It’s all honeycombed; it’s got to go under.” They just know it.” “And you watch, the water will come plumb back into the Salton Sea. Los Angeles is doomed for judgment. I tell you before it happened, that you might know when it does happen. I never spoke that by myself. And I’ve never had Him to tell me one thing but what happened. And you can bear record of that. That’s right. When? I don’t know.” “I went out, and they told me what I said. And I listened, went back and searched the Scripture. You know, Jesus said, almost in them same words about Capernaum; and Sodom and Gomorrah was in the bottom of the Dead Sea, I suppose was then. And later, about a hundred years later, Capernaum slid into the sea, and it’s in the sea. The same God that put Sodom in the sea for its sins, the same God that put Capernaum in the sea for its sins, the same God will put Los Angeles in the sea for its sins, that city of corruption.” (Works is Faith Expressed, p. 8:61-64).
Photos are of beautiful locations down under in Australia and New Zealand !
Your comments on the following stunning breathtakingly beautiful scenery are most welcome in the comment srction below ! Thanks !
★ On The Short List ★
Robert James Lee “Bob” Hawke (born 9 December 1929)
George Gaynes (born George Jongejans; May 16, 1917)
Sir Christopher Frank Carandini Lee, CBE, CStJ (born 27 May 1922)
Sir Roger George Moore, KBE (born 14 October 1927)
George Clifton James (born May 29, 1921)
Kirk Douglas [born Issur Danielovitch on December 9, 1916]
Abraham Charles “Abe” Vigoda (born February 24, 1921)
Zsa Zsa Gabor [born Sári Gábor on February 6, 1917]
Jerry Lewis [born Joseph (Jerome) Levitch on March 16, 1926]
James Earl “Jimmy” Carter, Jr. (born October 1, 1924)
Isaac Sidney “Sid” Caesar (born September 8, 1922)
Arthur Christopher Orme Plummer, CC (born December 13, 1929)
Sidney Poitier (born February 20, 1927)
Donald Jay “Don” Rickles (born May 8, 1926)
Doris Day (born Doris Mary Ann Kappelhoff, April 3, 1924)
Olivia Mary de Havilland (born 1 July 1916)
Queen Elizabeth II (Elizabeth Alexandra Mary Windsor) (born 21 April 1926)
Prince Philip, Duke of Edinburgh (born 10 June 1921)
Angela Brigid Lansbury, CBE (born 16 October 1925)
Albert Francis “Al” Molinaro (born June 24, 1919)
Gina Lollobrigida ( born 4 July 1927)
Carol Elaine Channing (born January 31, 1921)
Maureen O’Hara (born 17 August 1920)
Guy Hamilton (born 16 September 1922)
Lawrence Peter “Yogi” Berra (born May 12, 1925)
Charles Edward Anderson “Chuck” Berry (born October 18, 1926)
Richard Wayne Van Dyke (born December 13, 1925)
George Herbert Walker Bush (born June 12, 1924)
Joseph Aloisius Ratzinger (born 16 April 1927)
Betty Marion White Ludden (born January 17, 1922)
George Robert “Bob” Newhart (born September 5, 1929)
Melvin James “Mel” Brooks ( born June 28, 1926)
Verified living supercentenarians
Lupita Tovar (1910), Mary Carlisle (1912), Patricia Morison (1915), Olivia de Havilland (1916), Zsa Zsa Gabor (1917), Danielle Darrieux, June Foray, Marsha Hunt, Janet Waldo 1918), Marjorie Lord, Marge Champion (1919), Michele Morgan 1920), Maureen O’Hara, Nanette Fabray, Noel Neill, Carol Channing (1921), Elizabeth Wilson, Barbara Hale, Muriel Pavlow, Jean Kent, Jane Adams, Betty White (1922), Sheila Sim, Eleanor Parker, Micheline Presle, Jean Darling, Janis Paige, Louise Latham, Coleen Gray, Madeleine Sherwood.
Norman Lloyd, Wally Cassell (1915), Kirk Douglas, George Gaynes (1917), Al Molinaro, Alan Young, Abe Vigoda (1921), Clifton James, Gerald O’Loughlin, William Phipps, Patrick MacNee, Steven Hill, James Noble, Bill Macy, Christopher Lee, William Schallert, Fyvush Finkel.
Lester James Peries (1919), Michael Anderson (1920), Lewis Gilbert, Carl Reiner, Guy Hamilton, Bert Gordon, Jonas Mekas.
Elmo Williams (1913), Artur Brauner (1921), Walter Mirisch, Norman Lear (1922).
Douglas Slocombe(1913), Van Alexander(1915), Blaine Gibson (1918), Shinobu Hashimoto, Bob Schiller, Walter Bernstein (1919), Haskell Wexler (1922).
Lupita Tovar (1910, Dracula (Spanish), mother of Susan Kohner),
Mary Carlisle (1912, Baby Face Morgan),
Patricia Morison (1915, Song of Bernadette),
Olivia de Havilland (1916, Gone With the Wind)
Zsa Zsa Gabor (1917, Moulin Rouge), Danielle Darrieux (La Ronde), June Foray (Rocky & Bullwinkle), Marsha Hunt (Smash-Up), Janet Waldo (1918, The Jetsons), Marjorie Lord (Make Room for Daddy),
Marge Champion (1919, dancer and model for Snow White)
Michele Morgan (1920, The Fallen Idol), Maureen O’Hara (The Quiet Man), Nanette Fabray (The Band Wagon), and Noel Neill (TV’s The Adventures of Superman).
Carol Channing (1921, Thoroughly Modern Millie) Elizabeth Wilson (The Graduate), Barbara Hale (The Boy With Green Hair), Muriel Pavlow (Doctor in the House), Jean Kent (The Browning Version), Jane Adams (House of Dracula), Betty White (1922, TV’s The Golden Girls), Sheila Sim (A Canterbury Tale, 1944), Eleanor Parker (The Man with the Golden Arm), Micheline Presle (Devil in the Flesh, 1940s), Jean Darling (Our Gang), Janis Paige (Silk Stockings), Louise Latham (Marnie), Coleen Gray (Nightmare Alley), Madeleine Sherwood (TV’s The Flying Nun)
Norman Lloyd (Saboteur),
Wally Cassell (1915, Sands of Iwo Jima), Kirk Douglas (Spartacus),
George Gaynes (1917, Police Academy), Al Molinaro (TV’s Happy Days) & Alan Young (TV’s Mister Ed)
Abe Vigoda (1921, TV’s Fish), Clifton James (The Man with the Golden Gun) & Gerald O’Loughlin (TV’s The Rookies). William Phipps (Disney’s Cinderella), Patrick MacNee (TV’s The Avengers), Steven Hill (TV’s Mission Impossible), James Noble (TV’s Benson), Bill Macy (TV’s Maude), Christopher Lee (House of Dracula), William Schallert (Star Trek’s The Trouble with Tribbles), Fyvush Finkel (TV’s Picket Fences)
Lester James Peries (1919, Rekava aka The Line of Destiny (1956)
Michael Anderson (1920, Logan’s Run), Lewis Gilbert (The Spy Who Loved Me),
Carl Reiner (Oh, God!), Guy Hamilton (Goldfinger), Bert Gordon (Village of the Giants), Jonas Mekas (avant-garde director)
Elmo Williams (1913, Tora! Tora! Tora!),
Artur Brauner (Europa Europa)
Walter Mirisch (West Side Story)
Norman Lear (1922 TV’s All in the Family)
Douglas Slocombe (1913, cinematographer, Raiders of the Lost Ark),
Van Alexander (1915, composer, TV’s I Dream of Jeannie),
Blaine Gibson (1918, Disney animator), Shinobu Hashimoto (screenwriter, Rashomon), & Bob Schiller (screenwriter, I Love Lucy).
Walter Bernstein (1919, screenwriter, Fail Safe).
Haskell Wexler (1922, cinematographer, American Graffitti).