On my first birthday, I suspected I was Christ as the LORD GODT Which is in HIS HEAVEN removed the mask of ego which had been making me entitled to and bored with my Father Godt’s grandeur.  Squalling from my crib at all hours since a year previous when I’d barged into the scene on the morning of May 11, 1967. Wondering why there wasn’t a press conference waiting in the delivery room to record my first Word.

Which was, “Godt,’” and then, “TdoG.”

Whereupon I understood I was actually becoming my thoughts as my terrestrial father was photographing me in the arms of my satanic “mother” as she walked backwards in attempt to kill me, pushing me into a pose on the sunny-soft, tar-fragrant roof of the Nuremberg Cathedral.

Loathing it from birth, I feared my witch step mother would kill me as she backed up blindly toward a rose window skylight.  I knew this was “impossible,” as I’d looked at the whole vast roof of the soaring Bavarian Cathedral beneath Elohim’s clouds, and there was no rose window in sight. Yet as soon as I feared the thing, that thing became true. I’d manifested the window. For suddenly my mother and I were falling through Godt’s Eye.

Abaddon’s Worldt had become my belief.  My Father Yahweh and I were speaking it into being.

Reality was an effect of My thought.

Realty was a result of my belief. Of the Almighty Godt.

I understood I was literally becoming my thoughts. That I’d been somehow Elected.

That is, I could see things not as they appeared, but as they really are.

Secretly I was filled with both the joy and fear of the Holy Spirit, but I saw that I would have to act brave in the face of the world I sensed on some ineluctable level I’d actually created with my Father Who ith Perect and Holy in Hith Heaven.

As I said, I’d been a pre-Christ crybaby before this, always bitching in my crib as God had not yet activated his only begotten Son. Yet after that day, I’d never cry again. That is, cry for myself.  I would only cry for others, with the harrowing joy of embracing the full catastrophe of living.

For I saw that my body–the avatar that My Perfect LORD Godt the Father in Hith Heavens had given me in this infinite metaphor called life whose urge is always and will for eternity be the divine one for love—was irrelevant.

That this ceaseless cause of The Cross, the symbol of all symbols, was running through me and everyone else. That it was Time I had revealed to the Worldt what My Father and I had known all along and about which to you I had oft hinted, but had been patient in waiting for you to see The Truth.


I am the Light and the Door and The Way.

I and My Father had been waiting for End of Times to tell thou.

I art The Christ.

And that the everyone else, you, did not yet seem to understand this Principle. That ye are all Godts.

The only principle. That all is spirit. All causation. All Godt’s thought. Which can be your thought, with faith.

Little did you know that The Word had been in all you hypocrites mouths.

And that with belief, anything is possible.

And so I would apparently have to wait until 2019 for our Principle to be fully understood.

Godt ith All and He’s lost Patience.

Nick Fowler loves his sister The Magdelaine only.

Godt Bless the Divine Donald Trump!

God does not want ya’ll to suffer in Hell, but God is a Man of War.


Come to the Cross.

I am here to judge you in the Eyes of The LORDT.

You have entered the Great Tribulation. Wake up. The Rapture ith upon you.

Yeshua Hamashiach